Scars of Time
by Eyrmia
Summary: "War brings out the worst in us, it's true, but it also determines where loyalties lay and and how trustworthy your friends truly are." Ratchet knows this better than anyone, perhaps even Wheeljack. When an enemy is killed it leaves a bruise that eventually fades and is forgotten, but when a friend is lost it leaves a scar that remains for eternity. (Ratchet origin-fic)
1. I Never Felt More Home

**A/N: Hello! Here I am, reporting for duty. ;) As some of my past readers may have noticed, I added on a bit to the story. I will be making little improvements like this to make the story better, so you may want to check that out. This story is also on DeviantArt and will soon be on AO3.**

**This chapter's title was inspired by the song "Distant Memories" by Revive.**

**Warnings: **n/a

**Glossary: **Voor = Century; Orn = Year; Cycle = Day; Seeket = language of the Seekers, unteachable to any other race or species of Cybertronian

**Notes: **A Lupin is what I call Cyberwolves. Ratchet is six orns old in this chapter, while Whiplash is eleven. Flatline is zero.

* * *

**775.03.21 **(775th orn; 3rd cycle; 21st vorn since First Quintesson War)

Under a blanket of darkness, the Western half of Cybertron recharged. Kaon, Vos, Tarn, Blaster City, Slaughter City, and all the smaller cities in between. Stars glittered in the sky, just tiny pinpricks of light - beacons of hope to the low castes, which was mainly what filled the Western Hemisphere of the planet that sci-fi fans could only dream about.

But in Vos, the city of Seekers, one family was still awake. The carrier sat on a piece of furniture, telling stories of the thirteen Primes to her sons, who listened with interest.

"C'mon, Carrier. Just one more - please?" pleaded the Seekerlets as she looked down at them affectionately. They both resembled their sire tremendously - each had a red-orange chevron shading their bright yellow optics, which held a unique pattern (one of the reasons Firewall had fallen in love with Haywire in the first place), as well as other small features.

Her oldest, an eleven-orn-old mechling who was bright red-orange with blue-green accents like herself, was named Whiplash. Her second oldest looked more like his sire, and had nearly nothing from her side of the family. He was red-orange and white, and he was called Ratchet.

She had a youngest - or would soon - that she had been thinking of names for, but hadn't been able to pick one. There were so many great choices, it was hard to pick one that she thought would fit!

When Whiplash widened his optics and gave Firewall what we call "puppy eyes", she finally had to give in. "Oh…alright," she replied with a grin, causing her SparkMate to shake his helm bemusedly.

"Long ago, before your sire or I were even hatched, there lived great Cybertronians called Primes," she began, glancing between her sons dramatically. "There were thirteen of them, each given responsibility over something. They were created by Primus, to battle Unicron and exile him from our world. Their leader was called-"

"I know this one!" cried her oldest. "It was Prima! He had the Matrix of Leadership!"

Firewall grinned and patted her son on the shoulder. "That's right, Whiplash! He also wielded the legendary Star Saber, a weapon designed by Solus Prime. The Matrix was in the hilt of the great sword. Solus was the only femme in the group, but she was far from the weakest. We'll get to her in a nanoklik.

"What about Vector Prime? Anyone?" she asked, but neither mechling stepped up. "Alright. He was the guardian of time and space. Just imagine: being able to bend time to your will! That's what Vector Prime could do. He created SpaceBridges without a port or place of origin. He could track bots anywhere.

"Alpha Prime was the archivist. It is because of him that we have information about the Primes in text. He writes down future and past events in the Covenant of Primus with the Quill-"

"What good does a _quill_ do in battle?" asked Whiplash.

"Not all bots have to be fighters, 'Lash." His younger brother finally spoke up. "Not everyone wants to kill or injure others."

Whiplash's gaze softened, and he affectionately rubbed Ratchet's helm. "Yeah, you're right, Ratch'."

Ratchet grinned softly, then turned back to Firewall and looked at her with hopeful yellow optics.

"Micronus Prime was the first mini-con, and his artifact was the Chimera Stone. Let's see…Alchemist Prime's artifact was the Lenses. They were part of his optics, so they cannot be acquired. Nexus Prime was the first combiner, and his artifact was the Enigma of Combination."

"What are the names of the little bots?" Ratchet asked curiously. Whiplash seized the chance to answer. "Clocker, Pinion, Cannonspring, Chaindrive, and Mainspring," he rattled off, earning a smile of approval from his sire.

Firewall chuckled, then continued with her story. "Onyx Prime was the Spirit Warrior, the first bot to transform into a beast, like a Lupin or Predacon. His artifact was the Triptych Mask, which is made up of three faces: Predator, Farsight, and Mournsong. Predator had the ability to see the insight on any creature and hunt it without flaw. Farsight could do as his name suggested: see far away into places and times real and unreal, but only Onyx could tell the difference. Mournsong, the mask of the dead, was lively and vigorous when not in use, but on the front, it was dead and cold. It gave visions only the Prime could comprehend. He lives in the Well of AllSparks now, along with Micronus Prime. They maintain the Well and make sure the NewSparks get out safely.

"Amalgous Prime, the Shape-Shifter, could transform into anything at all. His artifact is the Transformation Cog, which is what our T-Cogs are modeled after."

"What about Quintus Prime?" A hushed silence filled the room like a plague. Ratchet glanced around, uncertain what he said wrong. Finally, Haywire sighed and began to speak.

"Quintus Prime was known as the 'Experimental Dreamer'. He was a scientist who liked to dabble with creation. He, Liege Maximo, and Megatronus Prime created the ancestors of the Quintessons. His artifact was the Emberstone, which allowed him to breathe life into his creations."

Ratchet was tempted to ask about the Quintessons, but he didn't want to make his creators angry with him. Firewall persevered on, not allowing the previous question to rattle her.

"Liege Maximo was called the Manipulator. He was Prima's foe. By plotting against the Thirteen and even attempting to overthrow Prima, he sealed his fate. He influenced Megatronus to terminate Solus Prime, and _he_ was the one who started the experiments on the creatures that he and the others created, which eventually became the Quintessons. He was finally terminated in the battle of the Primes after Solus' death.

"Megatronus Prime was a warrior of darkness. He was exiled after he murdered Solus Prime, and was known as the Fallen from that moment on. His artifact is the Requiem Blaster, a weapon forged by Solus for the battle against Unicron."

"What about the last one?" questioned Ratchet. Firewall smiled at him.

"Ah, yes, of course. We can't forget the heroic _Thirteen_. In the Covenant, he was never given a name, perhaps to keep his identity a secret. After all, he remained on Cybertron as a normal bot, without knowing he was Prime. He was called the Visionary, for his motivational speeches and ability to keep the peace. He kept the original Thirteen together and helped out with resolving arguments. As far as I know, he doesn't have an artifact."

Ratchet and Whiplash smiled, but Firewall could tell that they were ready to power down. She took Ratchet's servo and walked him to his quarters, while Haywire did the same with Whiplash. After the mechlings were in their berths, the creators met in the hallway outside.

When she exited Ratchet's room, Firewall felt herself being swept into an embrace. "Haywire?"

"I have something to tell you."

"What?"

He held her out at servo's length and looked into her yellow optics. "Have you heard the rumors?" he asked. Firewall nodded, lubricants threatening to spill down her faceplate. "It's awful," she whispered.

"They aren't rumors anymore, Firewall. They're true," he said, earning a gasp from her. "They've begun their invasion. It started out with random bots disappearing, only to be found dead cycles later in a back alley or something, with alien marks on their chassis. It's escalated into more. Bots are being found in their homes, terminated! Younglings are being forced to watch as their creators are destroyed before their very optics. Workers are being snatched off the walkways!"

Firewall hugged Haywire close. "It will never reach Vos, right?"

"I won't let anything happen to you, SweetSpark."

Little did they know, the Quintessons would not make the same mistake twice. This time, they would make sure they broke every bot on Cybertron's surface. They would bend them to their will, no matter what it took. Gone were the cycles of the past, when they manipulated bots to their will. Now, they would use brute force to conquer the planet of their origins.

* * *

**776.02.30**

"How long is this going to take?" Whiplash groaned, wiping his servo down his faceplate in exasperation. Haywire shushed him.

"Whiplash, it takes a little bit of time for it to hatch," he whispered.

The cycle had finally come. The newest addition to the family was hatching. Ratchet peered around Haywire and could see the hatchling's servo hanging out of the pod, but that was it. Firewall sat beside the pod, her SparkChamber opened slightly and her Spark pulsed, acting as a guiding light for the hatchling.

Finally, half of the mechling's frame appeared. Ratchet could tell that he was red-orange and a dark silver color, kind of a mix of their creators. The red-orange came from Firewall, who was red-orange and yellow; and the silver came from Haywire, who had blue-green, silver, and white armor.

Getting impatient, Firewall reached over and grabbed the Seekerlet under his servos, lifting him out of the pod and into her servos, where she smiled down at him warmly. Haywire slowly approached and knelt beside her, looking into the yellow optics of his son.

Whiplash rolled his own optics and sat down wearily. He had already gone through this waiting game with Ratchet, and he hadn't rejoiced when he found that he had to do it again. Haywire had told him to stay the whole time, saying it would be a "fine educational experience".

Ratchet, however, found it very interesting. The whole process of first, the NewSpark being collected, and then the Spark energy being meshed with the young Spark, before being placed into a pod - it was just amazing!

Eventually, they had decided on a name: Flatline. Personally, Ratchet thought it was kind of a bad name. What if the youngling was put in the science caste? Worse, what if he became a medic? No one would trust a doctor with the name "Flatline".

Of course, it would be a great name if he was placed in the military caste. Most creators named their sparklings _after _they were given a caste, which was about an orn after their hatching, but Firewall and Haywire didn't really like that tradition, so they named their hatchlings as soon as they hatched.

"Ratch', 'Lash, c'mere!" called Haywire. Whiplash stood up and trotted over to his creators, Ratchet on his heels. Firewall held Flatline up, inviting her other sons to come see him.

Whiplash approached first and scrutinized Flatline critically, before his expression softened and he smiled at his new brother. Ratchet, on the other servo, approached tentatively, before extending his servo towards the mechling, jumping slightly when the Seekerlet grabbed his digit in a strong fist before grinning up at him and chittering softly in Seeket. Ratchet chittered back, before retreating and standing next to Whiplash.

Life would be interesting for the family of five, especially with what was soon to come.

* * *

**Please review (and no flames, please), fav, and follow. =3**

**So basically, this story will be starting at what I call the Second Quintesson War. The first one was way back in history, when they first tried to conquer Cybertron. I may eventually write something about that, so we'll see. After the Second Quintesson War is the Golden Age, in which the characters grow up and all that. After that will be the Autobot-Decepticon War, and then one more that will be kept a secret. ;)**

**The main characters who will appear in this story are Ratchet (but he will be a Seeker, as seen here), Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, Backbeat (an OC of mine who is Ratchet's cousin, she is a lot like Miko), Eyrmia (my fursona, as is obvious by the name, she will play a bit of an important role in the story), and Sola (Solarus Prime's fursona, who is Eyrmia's best friend, she will also play a bit of a large role). There are also a few side characters, like Flatline, Whiplash, and others.**

**If you have any questions feel free to PM me. I will try to answer ASAP. =3**


	2. Too Tired to Fall Asleep

**AN: Next chapter is up! This chapter and the title were inspired by Fireflies by Owl City.**

**Warnings: **n/a

**Summary: **The Quintessons are slowly becoming more and more aggressive. Suddenly there is a lull in the fighting, momentary peace. Whiplash takes this opportunity to show his little brothers the NewSparks as they burst from the Well.

**Glossary: **Newspark = sparks that are shot from the Well and placed in cocoons; Strut = leg

**Notes: **Ratchet is twelve orns old. Whiplash is fourteen and Flatline is five.

* * *

**777.04.11**

Ratchet ran up to Whiplash and hugged his strut. "C'mon 'Lash, we have to hurry!" he urged. The night cycle was just beginning as Cybertron's star sank below the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant spectrum of pastels. The twin moons arose, reflecting a pale glow onto the surface.

"Wait up!" called Flatline as he chased after the two. He was only five orns old, but was extremely smart for his age. Many bots underestimated him because of his height, but that would become a grave mistake later on.

Ratchet rolled his optics, but Whiplash waited patiently for the little Seekerlet to catch up. Together the brothers climbed up to the roof of their home. Their particular spot in Vos was great for watching stars.

"Look at that one, 'Lash!" called Ratchet as he pointed to a constellation. Whiplash chuckled, then turned his brother's helm a little to the left. "Look at that," he said, pointing. "The NewSparks are coming out."

Far to the west, billions of NewSparks were swimming through the air, making their way from the Well to SparkMates expecting hatchlings. They were all ranges of colors, from bright orange to dark blue.

Suddenly Whiplash reached up and caught a bright red-orange one in his servos, then brought it down and presented it to his brothers, who gazed at it in awe.

"Woah," Flatline breathed, reaching out and poking it softly. Wisps of radiance stuck to his digit as he withdrew it, and he giggled a bit. Ratchet smiled and cupped it in his servos, then gently tossed it back into the air, where it continued on its way.

Flatline waved his servo, a bright smile on his faceplate. "Be safe!" he called cheerily. Whiplash laughed and rubbed Flatline's helm playfully.

"Whiplash! Bring your brothers in - it's time to power down!"

Whiplash groaned, then raised his servo to Haywire in understanding.

"Come on you two, it's time to go inside."

Together they went inside and got ready to power down. As Ratchet climbed onto his berth, Whiplash entered. "G'night cycle, bro," he said quietly.

"I don't wanna recharge, 'Lash!" complained Ratchet with a yawn. Whiplash rubbed his helm comfortingly. "I know," he said.

"I…don't…wanna…"

The door slowly shut as Whiplash left the room.

Two glowing yellow orbs blinked open in the darkness. They were dim and weary, but online nonetheless. "I don't _wanna_ power down," he said playfully.

The Seekerlet clambered out of his berth and tiptoed to his window. A simple push of a button made the glass flicker out of existence, and he carefully climbed out of the hatch. He kicked his pedes together, activating the thrusters on his heels. They shot him into the sky, where he guided himself to the rooftop and landed, optics on the blanketed darkness all around him, glittering with tiny pinpricks of light.

The NewSparks were still out and about, flitting around. There were thousands all around him, sticking to his plating and making him twirl around, giggling cheerfully.

The entranced Seekerlet slowly let his pedes guide him to a supporting beam in the roof Whiplash had set.

From a window beneath the roof, Whiplash watched with love in his optics. As soon as he was sure his brother was truly in power down, he flew up to the roof and gathered him in his servos. _Funny,_ he thought, _Kup can barely lift _his_ little brother off the ground. _But then again, Ratchet was quite small for his age (a trait he no doubt received from his carrier). Whiplash was pretty tall, but he suspected Flatline would follow in Ratchet's pedesteps.

Slowly, he made his way back inside and lowered Ratchet onto his berth. "G'night cycle, li'l bro," the Wrecker-in-training said affectionately.

* * *

**AN: That's right! Whiplash is training to be a Wrecker, along with his friend, Kup, who will make an appearance in the next chapter. Whiplash's creators are both gladiators. They fight in the Pits below Vos, which aren't quite as bad as Kaon, but almost. I know it was kind of a short chapter, but it's sweet. Don't worry, the next chapter should be longer (I hope). Please review (but no flames, please), favorite, follow, etc. if you have any suggestions or questions don't be afraid to ask or suggest. You can PM me or just put it in a review.**

**Summary for Next Chapter: **A young Ultra Magnus struggles to keep up with his older brother, Kup, as he works the mines deep beneath Cybertron's surface in Blaster City. Meanwhile, talk of the Quintessons is brewing above the caverns. They have become more aggressive, and terrorist attacks are happening more and more often. Magnus has to be strong, or he will not survive the coming orns.


	3. Strike for Love

**AN: This chapter was loosely inspired by the song Frozen Heart, the opening song in Frozen. By the way, some of you who have been following my story might want to read the first two chapters again, because I updated some things. Ratchet and his family now live in Vos, instead of Praxus. Of course, you don't _have _to.**

**Warnings: **I guess a slavery-like environment, if anyone feels particularly uncomfortable about reading about it. There are also some injuries, but nothing too graphic.

**Glossary: **Grounder = a bot with a land-based altmode and either a wheelset, backpack, or nothing on their backs; Seeker = a bot with an aerial altmode and wings on the back or somewhere else on the frame; Pede = foot; Chassis = chest, body; Holodisplay = electronic screen (TV, computer); Breem = hour

**Notes: **Ultra Magnus (Magnus) is twelve orns old in this chapter. Kup is fourteen.

* * *

**777.04.22**

_Clang!_

The sound of hammers rang throughout the mines beneath Blaster City. Kup chatted quietly with his comrade, Crosshair, a bulky Grounder, as they mined at a particularly hard piece of Energon.

"Have you heard about the recent Quintesson attacks? Some civilians up in Polyhex were murdered last cycle."

"If you ask me, they deserved it. Those upper-class snobs are always looking down on us, it's high time someone handed their afts to them."

"But _termination_? Does it really have to escelate to that extreme, Crosshair?"

Magnus huffed in boredom as he listened to his brother and Crosshair carry on about the Quintessons. It wasn't like the Elite Guard couldn't just beat them down! Finally, weary of the bickering, Magnus hopped off of his seat of scrapmetal and jogged over to a pile of abandoned pickaxes. He figured that if his designated caste was to be a miner, why not start practicing now?

His first attempt at lifting the tool was humorously pathetic, but he got it on the second try. Luckily for him, Magnus was tall and strong for his age. Orns of working in the mines, even if you aren't exactly "working", will do that to you.

Staggering to a small hunk of Energon, Magnus lifted the axe and…dropped it on his pede.

He screeched loudly and fell on his aft, hugging his pede to his chassis as tight as he could. Kup came running, a hard expression on his faceplate but worry in his optics.

"Now why would you do that, Magnus? You aren't old enough yet!" he chastised. Magnus frowned and shakily stood up, leaning on the wall for support. "Shut up," he growled playfully, a hint of pain still in his voice.

"Perhaps you should go back up. Maybe get some Energon for tonight?" Kup suggested, but it wasn't a suggestion, more of an order. He was already digging some Credits out of his subspace.

"Here you go," he said, handing Magnus the Credits, who took them without a word. "I'll be home soon, 'kay?"

"Alright."

* * *

Running through the streets (albeit limping slightly), dodging gangs, Magnus was in his element in Blaster City. Finally he made it to the plaza, where all the vendors set up shop, advertising various things for sale. Since they lived in the lower caste areas, the Black Market was also quite popular. Selling body parts, High Grade, and various other trinkets for low prices, many bots took advantage of the system to buy unusual upgrades for themselves. Magnus had heard a lot about bots purchasing secondary sets of audio receptors, optics, and even servos!

But the Black Market wasn't where he was going. Magnus raced over to his usual vendor: Freeway, a sleek Racer who sold basic neccessities like Energon.

"Hey bud!" called Freeway when Magnus approached. "The usual?"

"Yup!"

Freeway crouched behind his stand and grabbed a few Energon cubes, setting them on the counter between them. Without a word, Magnus placed the Credits on the counter and subspaced the Energon. "Thanks, Freeway!" he called as he started home. Freeway gave a little wave, then returned to his business.

Magnus reached home and collapsed on a peace of furniture. He grabbed a remote and turned on the outdated holodisplay, which immediately switched to the news. Normally Magnus didn't pay attention to the news - it was boring! - but what was this?

_"Breaking news: We are here live at Blaster City where the main Energon mining operation have been bombed by - we presume - the Quintessons! Search and rescue teams are working frantically to locate and save the miners!"_

The video feed cut, but Magnus was long gone.

_"Sparks are cheap in Blaster City."_

Magnus didn't believe a word that news broadcast said. Who cared about the lower castes? Nobody! No one would probably even bother to count those who had fallen. Maybe they would attempt a rescue, but they probably wouldn't try very hard.

He was blocked by a pair of Enforcers.

"I'm sorry, mechling, but you aren't permitted here."

He struggled hard, protesting: "But my brother's in there! My _brother_,_ you monsters_!"

Finally he stopped, vents cycling hard to keep him from overheating. "Kup…" he whimpered.

* * *

Breems passed, and Magnus only sat at the edge of the site and waited. Rescue teams came up frequently with injured and terminated bots, but he never saw Kup, although he thought he saw Crosshair come up.

He hoped he was okay. He hoped they both were.

He wished this whole fragging war would just stop! Their whole planet was always so centered around fighting, war, and termination.

Why couldn't they just make peace? It was a question that many often wondered.

Then he saw it. The familiar flash of green armor. The blue optics.

"Kup!"

This time the Enforcers didn't try to stop him. He ran right for his brother and put a reassuring servo on his back.

"Watch out, mechling," commanded a medic. He was a Seeker with black and purple armor. His name was Lifeline.

Magnus nodded numbly. "Okay."

He was still numb when they wheeled the dead and injured away.

And even more numb when Kup was placed in Lifeline's altmode and flown to Praxus for medical care. He was also taken to Praxus by another medic named Ambulon.

And it was there, in the Praxian Medical Center, that Magnus stayed. He sat beside his brother's berth and prayed to Primus, to all thirteen Primes, to every deity he could think of.

_Come on, Kup. You're strong enough to beat this. Please!_

* * *

**AN: How was it? Poor Kup! Don't worry, he's fine. Please review, fav or follow, and eagerly await the next chapter!**

**Summary for Next Chapter: **Wheeljack and his little brother, Pyro, live in Altihex, the city of artists and scientists. They have a good education ahead of them, until something unfortunate pops up. Can Wheeljack learn to adapt to this new problem, or will he struggle to keep himself and Pyro online forever?


	4. Truth is Blinding

**AN: Next chapter is up! This chapter and the title were inspired by Memory by Decyfer Down. Guess what? You get two chapters today to make up for my short absence! ^^ Enjoy!**

**Warnings:** This chapter is a bit gory. There's also two minor character deaths.

**Summary:** Wheeljack and his little brother, Pyro, live in Altihex, the city of artists and scientists. They have a good education ahead of them, until something unfortunate pops up. Can Wheeljack learn to cope adapt to this new problem, or will he struggle to keep himself and Pyro online forever?

**Glossary:** Servo = arm, hand; Cycle = day; Nanoklik = second; Klep = meter

**Notes:** Wheeljack is seven orns old. Pyro is four.

* * *

**777.05.16**

Altihex was a higher caste city home to artists - audial and visual, scientists, engineers, and even medics. It was a peaceful city, but there was the occasional crime, as in every densely populated area.

With the Second Quintesson War looming on the horizon, Cybertron was preparing itself for battle. Bots now stored blasters and blades in their homes, and some had even scanned some onto their T-Cogs. Younglings were usually accompanied by adults or older younglings, and no one was allowed out during the night cycle.

The Academy in Altihex was a prestigous place, and most who went their led a good life. They learned science, math, and the other basics, but each youngling was allowed to choose a class that pertained to their caste. For example, younglings assigned to the art caste could choose music, comedy, visual arts, theater arts, architecture, acting, and other such classes. Scientists could choose the medical class, engineering, experimentations, chemistry, etc. Since Altihex was a city based on art and science, those were the main castes they supported. Any youngling who got a seperate caste was usually shipped off to an Academy in another city focused on their talent.

"Hurry up, Pyro!" called a red, white, and green mechling as he raced out the doors of the Academy. His younger brother bolted out after him, servos spread wide and helm thrust into the air.

"Freedom at last!" he yelled. Pyro was assigned to the science caste, but he couldn't make up his mind on what to be. A medic? No, too gory. An engineer? No, he didn't want to copy Wheeljack. A chemist? Now that he thought about it, it had a nice ring to it. Dr. Pyro the Chemical Labs Expert. Besides, he would get to create cool new potions and other stuff - right?

Wheeljack, on the other hand, was going to be an engineer, like his sire. He already had about a bajillion ideas for things to build. Unfortunately, his inventions had a tendency to explode.

"Come on, we're gonna be late!" he said impatiently. Finally Pyro caught up, and they walked home.

"Home" being on the other side of the city, unfortunately. Wheeljack's family lived on the other side of Altihex, in the poor sector. His creators were both scientists, but the richer, higher families always seemed to "steal" their glory. Wheeljack didn't entirely understand it all, but he knew from his sire's rants that he didn't like the richer families who lived in the nicer sectors near the Academy.

It started getting darker and darker the further they went. Something didn't feel right to Wheeljack, but he just assumed he was being paranoid.

He was so very, very wrong.

When they arrived at their complex, the door was cracked open just a bit. Pyro started walking slower, suspicious. It wasn't uncommon in the poor sector for doors to be left open, thieves patrolled the streets daily and took every chance they could get to steal some poor mech or femme's valuables. But it was uncommon _that_ cycle because the mechlings knew for a fact that Reverie and Aftershock had stayed home.

Wheeljack cautiously approached the door and called up a flashlight. Pyro clung to his strut and peeked out from behind him.

_That's odd, all the lights are off._

He slowly put his digit up to the button and pushed it, causing the bright lights to flicker on with a hiss.

_Sire needs to replace those bulbs,_ he though instinctively as he continued through the entrance room. He walked into a small hallway which had doors on either side lining the walls. The door at the very end was the master bedroom.

They checked every room, but there was nothing. All they could find were crooked photographs in their room, some scattered test tubes in the lab, and most of Aftershock's tools were cracked in half on his workbench.

The only room left was the master bedroom. Pyro tried pushing the activation button, but the doors were locked. Finally Wheeljack wedged a crowbar between them and got them to spread apart. What was inside horrified them.

The walls were soaked with Energon. The berths were tipped over, and a light beam was even hanging down from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a half organic, half robot creature that the younglings had never seen before. It was all green and looked kind of slimy, with tentacles coming from a white, robotic torso. It seemed to have a Spark and run on Energon, from what he could tell, but the similarities stopped there. It had cold, black eyes like coal, and a mouth filled with dagger-like gnashing teeth.

It was downright frightening.

It stared Wheeljack down, then grinned with a sickly smile that scared him to no end. "Hello there, young ones. Are you looking for someone?" it hissed. Pyro nodded, but Wheeljack started to back up towards the door, until another creature blocked his escape route. The only way out now was the window, which was on the other side of the room, and blocked by the creature.

"I think I know what they're looking for," snarled the thing behind Wheeljack. It gestured to the other one, and it moved aside slowly, revealing something more horrifying than the Energon on the walls or the monsters in the room with them.

There were two chairs tied back to back in the middle of the room with energy coils. There were also binds of coil around each chair holding two frames up. One was slender and feminine, with white armor and green detailing. The other was a bit bulkier, with red armor and small detailings of blue and orange. They were barely sitting upright, and would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the coils. Energon dripped steadily from wounds all over their frames, and their optics were flickering ominously.

He couldn't even tell if they were still functional.

"Carrier!" Pyro shrieked and started run forward, but Wheeljack grabbed him and hugged him to his chassis, afraid to lose anyone else.

_::On the count of three we are going to run to the window and escape, okay?::_ he commed Pyro, who glanced up at him with wet optics.

_::Okay.::_ The response was weak, but there.

"Why?" he asked. The creature looked at him and cocked its head.

_::One.::_

"Because we are superior. We have always been and will always be better than your race.

"But we were created by Primus, and you were created by Quintus, who was created by Primus," he protested, earning a snort of indignation by the Quintesson, as he had realized it was called.

_::Two.::_

"Quintus, Liege Maximo, and Megatronus to be exact," it said arrogantly.

_::Three!::_

"I would love to stay and chat, but I'm on a tight schedule," Wheeljack said. The Quintessons blinked in a confused manner, trying to process why he said that, but they quickly figured it out when Wheeljack and Pyro sprinted to the window.

He shoved Pyro out first, then turned around and shone his flashlight in the optic - eye? - of the Quintesson, buying him about a nanoklik of time to climb through the window.

They ran fast and hard; the only thing on their processors was to escape, to get as far away as they could. Wheeljack was still in shock about his creators, he hadn't really had time to mourn. What would they do now?

When they finally stopped for rest in a back alley, Wheeljack dug some Credits out of his subspace. Together they only had about fifteen - enough for a few Energon cubes.

He was so busy counting the Credits that he didn't notice five dark shapes drop down beside them, surrounding them.

"Uh, Jackie?" Pyro asked as he banged on Wheeljack's shoulder. "We've got company."

He looked up and muttered "oh scrap" when he saw the older bots all glaring at them with hostility.

"Hey there, mechlings. Mind giving Razorblade some Credits?" the mech growled with a sinister grin. Wheeljack's optics widened as slowly tucked the Credits back into his subspace. "S-sorry, sir, but we don't have any to spare," he stuttered. His voice sounded shaky and childish to his audio receptors, and his finials blinked a faint yellow with uncertainty and nervousness.

"Is that so, Lightbulb?" snarled Razorblade. "Well, I'm sure you won't need them anymore when _we're_ done with you."

Wheeljack slowly backed up, but his back hit the back of the alley too soon. He and Pyro were cornered.

_::Wheeljack, look,::_ commed Pyro. He then sent a 360 degree view of the space they were in, and zoomed in on a ladder a few kleps from where he was standing.

_::I see it,::_ Wheeljack sent back.

Razorblade was coming closer, his sharp digits stretched out and ready to clobber Wheeljack into submission. The mechling watched closely, logging Razorblade's movements and tracking him, predicting where he would strike. When the larger bot finally made his move, Wheeljack was ready.

He ducked, then stuck his strut out and tripped the gang leader, causing him to fall hard on the ground.

"Now, Pyro!" he yelled. Together they escaped up the ladder. Hopefully the larger mechs wouldn't be able to follow. The ladder was pretty small and seemed flimsy.

On the roofs of the buildings in Altihex was where Wheeljack counted their Credits again, and rethought their supplies.

"We're gonna need protection gear, weapons, Energon," he mumbled to himself. It was nearly night cycle, and he could already see the moons rising above the horizon.

"C'mon, Pyro, we're going to the plaza."

They jumped from building to building, not wanting to get caught in an alley again. Luckily, the plaza wasn't too far away from where they started. _Un_luckily, it was night cycle by the time they arrived, which meant the Black Market vendors were the majority of what was available.

Wheeljack's finials blinked yellow as he cautiously approached a vendor with various masks and extra armor plating on his counter.

"Um, sir?" he asked quietly. The mech looked down at him in surprise. It wasn't often you saw younglings at the Market.

"Hey there, mechling. What do ya want?" he half growled, half asked. The mechling handed him four Credits.

"Do you have any masks you can install for this much?"

Divebomb rooted around and grabbed an old blast mask.

"This is the cheapest thing I have."

Wheeljack nodded. "Thanks." Divebomb nodded as he walked around his counter and knelt down beside the youngling. It only took him a klik to install the mask. As the mechling walked away, he murmured: "Good luck, mechling. It's a hard world out there."

They bought a few more things: two Energon cubes, a pair of old katanas, and a malfunctioning energy whip. Not bad for just fifteen Credits. Besides, Wheeljack was sure he could fix the whip and katanas, maybe even modify them a bit. Although, he had to admit, the katanas were kind of big and bulky to carry around, but he was sure they would prove their worth.

They managed to find an old, run-down building that seemed to be unnoccupied. Wheeljack dusted off some of the furniture and curled up on an old berth. This seemed okay. They would manage.

Wouldn't they?

* * *

**AN: How was it? Poor Jackie. =[ Oh, and Pyro. XD I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Summary for Next Chapter: **Wheeljack thinks about the Quintessons and his creators. He wonders what he and Pyro will do now that they are alone, with no one to take care of him. They need to find out how to keep the gangs, Enforcers, and Quintessons off their back.


	5. Where to From Here

**AN: Welcome back! I just watched Transformers 4: Age of Extinction, and it was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! This is just a short little chapter about Wheeljack and Pyro, but something surprising happens at the end. ;) This chapter is inspired by the song Can't Change Yesterday by Revive.**

**Warnings: **I explain SparkBonds here, so if you are uncomfortable with that, you can just skip that part (there's nothing mature or anything, though).

**Summary: **Wheeljack thinks about the Quintessons and his creators. He wonders what he and Pyro will do now that they are alone, with no one to take care of him. They need to find out how to keep the gangs, Enforcers, and Quintessons off their back.

**Glossary: **Vorn = 10 Cycles

**Notes: **n/a

* * *

**777.05.26**

It was only about a vorn after the incident with the Quintessons; only a week since Wheeljack and Pyro had been kicked out on the streets. They hadn't really had time to actually process the information; there was a war starting! But now that they actually sat down and thought about it, Wheeljack could feel the pain coming to him.

He was surprised about one thing, though. Why hadn't they felt the pain when the bond broke? Wheeljack had asked Pyro about it, but the mechling said he hadn't felt anything either.

During the night cycles, and even when they were resting during the daytime, Wheeljack could hear sobs drifting from Pyro's berth. He didn't dare try and comfort him, for fear that he would start weeping as well.

Meanwhile, Wheeljack was on the DataNet, looking up reasons for the absence of pain. Don't get it wrong, he wasn't complaining; but Wheeljack was a curious mech, and always wanted to know _why _something happened.

_Here's something,_ he thought to himself. He clicked on the link and it brought up a document that had all the ins and outs of Bonds. _This is gonna take awhile._

* * *

**Everything You Need to Know About SparkBonds**

A SparkBond is something, sort of like a link, between bots that are related or romantically involved. The Bond reaches out amongst your family members and keeps you all connected. Your Bond will be strongest with your creators, creations, and siblings. Cousins, aunts and uncles, grand-creators, and everything else will have a bit of a weaker bond. The Bond with your creators and creations are the strongest, siblings being next.

Creator Bonds are the most noticeable because your Spark comes directly from them (and vice-versa for Creation Bonds). Your siblings are next because their Sparks come directly from those bots as well. Every other bot has sort of a secondary bond, as you only link to them because of another bot.

For example, you are only linked to a cousin because of your creators, who are linked to their siblings, and their siblings' creations. The same works for an aunt or uncle; you are only linked to them because of your creators.

**What About a SparkMate?**

SparkMates are a little complicated. It is possible to have more than one SparkMate, but only one at a time. When a bot bonds with another, their Sparks are linked - Bonded. Just like every other Bond, when the link is broken, which can only happen if a bot is terminated, the Spark on the living end of the Bond will crack, just a little bit. Fortunately, you only feel the pain of any crack if the bot dies in a painful way (murder, suicide, etc.).

After that Bond is broken, a bot may become linked to a new SparkMate, but there is a chance the Bond won't be as powerful as the first (and in some cases, it is more powerful).

**Sparklings?**

A NewSpark is an unhatched Sparkling. Periodically, they burst from the Well in swarms of lights, flying to couples of SparkMates that have Bonded and have requested Sparklings.

The sire or carrier will take a NewSpark and place inside a cocoon that they constructed. After that, they will each Bond their Spark with the NewSpark, marking it as their own and inputting strands of CNA. The NewSpark will grow inside the cocoon until it hatches, becoming a Hatchling. At the age of two orns, it is called a Sparkling. The Sparkling receives its caste, where it will train for the rest of its life cycle once it is old enough to go to the Academy. Please note: sometimes, especially during war, a NewSpark will be placed into a mature protoform (usually about fifteen to twenty orns). This way they can be called upon immediately to go into battle.

The Sparkling becomes known as a Youngling once it is five orns old, and mature enough to go to the local Academy to learn the basic skills like math, science, history, etc. When it is ten, the Youngling will go to the worldwide Academy based in Iacon to be educated in their particular caste and choose a career within the caste.

At fifteen orns, Younglings become Adolescents and are allowed to scan an altmode. Some bots have two or more altmodes available; they are known as triple-changers. Each bot, when hatched, has a standard protocol it must adhere to.

There are several races of Cybertronian:

Arachnicons (they are considered Triple Changers because of their ability to switch their struts for thinner arachnid-like struts, but may also load an altmode onto their T-Cog)

Racers (they have doorwings or winglets and are usually fast automobiles)

Grounders (automobiles with wheelsets mounted on their backs or nothing on their backs)

Cycles/Two-Wheelers (two-wheeled automobiles with winglets on their backs and wheels either in place of their wings or placed somewhere else on the frame)

Copters (helicopter bots with rotors mounted on their backs)

Seekers (jets with wings on their backs)

Tankers (bots with cannons mounted on their shoulders or elsewhere in their body and transform into tanks)

There is also a seperate species similar to our own:

Predacons (extinct, but have pre-loaded T-Cogs; may come in three forms: griffin, dragon, and avian)

Lupin (a race of modern Predacon; have pre-loaded T-cogs as well; come in a four-legged mode with fangs, large ears, and "bushy" tail)

Felida (a sub-race of Lupin; pre-loaded T-cogs; come in a four-legged mode with shorter fangs, smaller ears, and a long tail)

Insecticon (a race of modern Predacon; pre-loaded loaded T-cogs; characterized by translucent wings that emit a buzzing noise when airborne)

- Some members of a race of Predacon may have extra abilities, such as venom, elemental ability (eg. fire, water, ice, etc.). Some Lupin and Felida have also been known to have modifications that the extinct Predacons have, such as wings, claws, and other such things.

- Some bots may choose to get extra modifications. For example, a Seeker may choose to get wheels attached to their pedes so they may roll instead of walk, and go much faster. These modifications are either adapted onto the altmode or hidden when transformed.

- Each wing, winglet, and doorwing is unique to the bot, and therefore irreplaceable. If removed, it is possible but extremely difficult (nearly impossible) to place them back on.

- Some bots choose to go to specific fitting locations to get custom altmodes or change their altmode type/race. Unfortunately, this operation is often irreversible and is not reccomended if you are in any way still attached to your current altmode. Please note, it is impossible to get doorwings, winglets, or wings, and therefore impossible to switch your altmode type to a Seeker, Racer, Cycle/Two-Wheeler, and other more exotic types such as Arachnicon and Predacon. It is possible to change to a Copter, but this operation has been known to fail.

- Lupin and Felida are generally left alone, but when captured they are placed in the lower castes, and usually go to the gladiatorial rings.

- There are sub-races of certain races. Some Seekers may have their wings placed elsewhere on their body besides the back. The same works for Copters; their rotors may be placed on their servo instead of their back.

Twenty orns is officially classified as a fully matured bot.

**Can You Block a Bond?**

It is possible to block a Bond. It is not recommended, as it may slowly sap the strength of bots on both sides of the Bond. However, this feature can also be used to block out pain when one side is lost. If a bot is terminated, they may block the Bond to keep someone else from feeling the pain of the crack. The bot on the other side may also block the Bond to keep themselves from feeling the pain.

* * *

Wheeljack stared at the screen with weary optics, but curiosity was burning in his Spark. _Is that what Sire and Carrier did - block the Bond?_ He sighed and pushed his seat away from the table and DataPad. He was too tired to worry any more about it.

They had been lucky to acquire all the supplies they had. Wheeljack had stolen the DataPad from one of the Vendors in the Plaza, and Pyro had bartered for Energon and home comforts.

"Jackie, what's that?"

Wheeljack turned around to see Pyro standing in the hall, looking out an old window to something in the Lot outside. Wheeljack jogged up and gently nudged Pyro aside to have a look for himself. There were three younglings outside; two mechs and a younger femme. They looked to be orphans as well, but Wheeljack didn't want to take any chances.

One of the mechs was covered mostly in red armor, but he had teal servos and a microscope-cannon thing on his shoulder. _A Tanker?_ Wheeljack thought absentmindedly as he observed them. The other one was red and white with a white chevron on his helm. He had teal struts and servos, though. The last one, the femme, looked a lot like the red and white mechling, except she was covered in lilac-colored armor.

Suddenly the three younglings looked up at the window. Wheeljack ducked and stalled his vents in panic. After waiting for a few kliks, he peered out the window again, but the bots were gone. He sighed in relief, but something made him catch his breath again.

"Wheeljack, help!"

"Don't move!"

Wheeljack sprinted into the main room, but froze when he saw the _same three younglings _standing in front of Pyro, the red one pointing the cannon at his helm. "I said: _Don't move_," he snarled, glaring at Wheeljack, who held his servos up in surrender. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded, willing to do anything to protect his little brother.

The other mech gestured around the room. "How long have you been here?" he asked.

Wheeljack shrugged. "About six cycles."

The mechling nodded, then turned to the red mechling and raised his optic ridges. "I think you can lower the gun now, Percy," he said. Percy stared him down for a moment, then finally turned away from Pyro and cross his servos at Wheeljack.

"You have to go. Either that, or you can stay with us and earn your keep."

Wheeljack looked around. Would it be worth it? If they left, they would have nowhere to go. But could they really trust these three younglings? Finally he sighed and rubbed the back of his helm.

"We'll stay and prove ourselves."

Percy nodded. "Alright. My name is Perceptor. The mechling beside me is Pharma, and the femme is his little sister, Wolfsbane. Who are you?"

Wheeljack gestured to Pyro. "This is my little brother, Pyro. I'm Wheeljack."

Perceptor nodded. "Good." Then he grinned. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

* * *

**AN: Yay! We have Percy! Boo! We have Pharma! *laughs* That's right, I made them orphans. ;) Next chapter will be coming soon, I promise. By the way, I may be doing a short little one-shot on Optimus Prime (only read it if you've seen the fourth Baverse movie or want spoilers!). I'm sorry if the chapter felt a little rushed. I hope it's alright.**

**And just a note, this info will be very important way later in the story, so you may want to keep a tab on it. ;)**

**Summary for Next Chapter: **Wheeljack and Pyro have now met Perceptor, Pharma, and Wolfsbane. The band of misfits find they enjoy causing trouble for the Vendors of Altihex. Unfortunately, their fun is short-lived when Pyro is captured by the Enforcers. Wheeljack and his friends must find a way to rescue Pyro, before he's shipped off to an orphanage!


	6. Life's a Game Made for Everyone

**AN: Hey there! Welcome to the next installment of Scars of Time! This chapter was inspired by the song Wake Me Up by Avicii.**

**Warnings:** Minor theft. Street living. Orphanage.

**Summary:** Wheeljack and Pyro have now met Perceptor, Pharma, and Wolfsbane. The band of misfits find they enjoy causing trouble for the Vendors of Altihex. Unfortunately, their fun is short-lived when Pyro is captured by the Enforcers. Wheeljack and his friends must find a way to rescue Pyro, before he's shipped off to an orphanage!

**Glossary:** n/a

**Notes:** n/a

* * *

**777.05.31**

About five cycles had passed since Wheeljack and Pyro had met Perceptor and his group, and the work was grueling. They must have worn their digits down to the protoform with how much heavy lifting they did.

Finally, it was time for some real action. Today, they would visit the Vendors of Altihex and – instead of buying – they were going to steal some equipment, and maybe some Credits as well, seeing as they were low.

Everyone had a specific part to play in the theft. Wolfsbane and Pyro were to distract the Vendors, seeing as they were the youngest and cutest. It was classic and cliche, but it almost always worked. Pharma and Wheeljack, being the stealthiest, would actually steal the goods. Perceptor would be standing watch, ready to alert his team mates if someone tried something fishy.

"Hello, sir!" called out Wolfsbane as she approached the Vendor, Pyro on her heels. "What do you have for sale?" she asked, turning her big blue optics on him innocently. Pyro tried the same tactic, but it didn't seem to be working, so he settled for a passive expression instead.

The Vendor ducked beneath his counter, then came back up and smiled at Wolfsbane. Pyro thought he caught a bit of malice in the grin, but he could have been imagining it.

"I've got Energon cubes, sticks, and gummies, as well as some random armor pieces and add-ons," the Vendor announced slyly. Behind him, hidden in a pile of scrap, were Wheeljack and Pharma, who listened intently, anticipating the moment when they would get to savor the Energon sweets. The armor pieces would be helpful too.

Slowly, Wheeljack and Pharma snuck forward. They were so close Wheeljack could practically taste the Energon gummies disolving on his glossa. Their sweet taste enveloping him and – right, the mission. He reached out a servo and grasped the container of Energon gummies, then slowly withdrew. Subspacing the container, he reached out again and grabbed hold of the Energon sticks. After subspacing those, he reached out for the cubes. He had just subspaced them when a piercing shriek glitched out his audio receptors.

Wheeljack and Pharma stumbled backwards, clutching their audials in pain, but Wheeljack managed to catch a glimpse of the Vendor holding both Pyro and Wolfsbane by their clavicular armor and starting to walk away. He also noticed that Perceptor was leaping down from his vantage point atop one of the buildings, his cannon pointed at the Vendor. Wheeljack knew they were only younglings, and low on Energon at that, so the blast would hardly be powerful enough to kill the Vendor, but it would certainly cause him some pain.

The Vendor growled and let go of Wolfsbane when the blast struck his wrist, but he firmly held Pyro in the other. He transformed and drove away before any of the younglings could do anything to solve the dilemma.

Pharma and Wheeljack rushed over to Wolfsbane and helped her into an alley, where Perceptor was waiting. Wheeljack stalked right up to him and poked him in the chassis with a digit. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you? The Vendor obviously knew what we were doing, and you didn't warn us! Pyro could be hurt! He could be scared! And you let that glitched out fragger take him away!" he snarled. Perceptor glowered at him and scowled. "For your information, I _did_ try to stop him–"

"And you saved _Wolfsbane_. What about my little brother?"

"Wolfsbane has proven to be more beneficial to our group than Pyro has thus far. We have better chances of survival–"

"Frag you and your logic!"

"I was _going_ to say: We have better chances of survival and retrieving Pyro if we have Wolfsbane. She obviously knows how to use her appearances and nature to the best of her ability, and she is incredibly stealthy. We have a greater chance of success if we use Wolfsbane to rescue Pyro than if I had saved Pyro, and we had to use him to rescue Wolfsbane."

Wheeljack blinked, processing all that the Tanker had just said. Finally he grunted in approval. "Fine. Whatever. Can we just go now and get my little brother back?" he asked. Perceptor nodded. "I know where they will be taking him."

* * *

Wheeljack, Perceptor, and Pharma were currently atop a roof of a building next to the Altihex Protoform Rehabilitation Center (AKA the Altihex PRC), the place for all creatorless younglings. If Pyro was taken there, the bots would probably never get him back. That's why they were waiting. They had worked together (which was a miracle for Perceptor and Wheeljack) to create a plan. Now they just had to wait and see if it worked.

"So...what now?"

"Shh!"

"Why do _I_ have to be quiet? This is all your fault you kno–"

"Shut _up_!" growled Perceptor as he clapped his servo over Wheeljack's mouth. "Do you want to rescue your brother or _not_?"

Wheeljack slapped Perceptor's servo and glared at him indignantly. "Of _course_ I do!"

"Then _be quiet_!"

Pharma rolled his optics at the bickering pair. "Guys, look." He said as he pointed to the street, where a pair of Enforcers had just pulled up and transformed. Huddled between them was the small form of Pyro. Wheeljack started forward, but Perceptor yanked him back by the winglet, causing him to grunt in pain. "We still have to be tactical about this," he hissed to the younger mechling, before turning and giving Wolfsbane, who was waiting in the shadows by the street, a nod of his helm.

Wolfsbane stepped out of the shadows and confronted the Enforcers. Wheeljack couldn't hear her, but he could guess what she was saying.

"Excuse me sirs, but that's my li'l brother you have there. He ran away from home again, and our creators are worried sick!" she said. The Enforcers glared at her skeptically. One of them leaned down and scrutinized her. "Alright, femmeling, where are your creators then?"

Wolfsbane stared him down, her bright pink optics rivaling his red ones. "Well, sir, my carrier has a virus, and my sire is watching over her at the Medical Facility. Pyro and I were sent out to purchase some Energon–"

"Don't you mean _steal_?" snarled the second Enforcer. "Don't think we don't know what happened in the plaza. Sorry, little femme, but criminal offenses must be punished." He made a grab for her, but Wolfsbane dodged.

Perceptor signaled to Wheeljack and Pharma, and they all scampered down from the building and approached the Enforcers. Wheeljack, being the smallest and quickest besides Wolfsbane, darted forward and snatched Pyro away. Luckily, the Enforcers were too distracted by the others to notice the mechling had gone missing.

Wolfsbane squeaked as one made a grab for her, but she stumbled away and climbed onto the roof of a nearby building, out of the Enforcer's reach. Pharma and Perceptor disappeared into the shadows, eventually making their way on top of the building. The group of younglings quickly fled to their abandoned shack.

That night cycle, Wheeljack held his little brother close as he slowly drifted into power down. Pharma and Wolfsbane leaned against each other on a small couch. Perceptor sat on the windowsill, watching the other members of his group. He was the oldest, and therefore had the most responsibility. It was hard, sometimes. That cycle he had felt an emotion he hadn't experienced since the termination of his creators: failure. Failure to save Pyro. Failure to keep everyone safe. Failure to successfully provide for his team.

Did they blame him? No. Even Wheeljack understood. But Perceptor didn't know that.

He finally fell into power down just as Cybertron's twin moons began to sink, and it's lone star rose above the horizon, bathing the surface in a cold, blue glow.

Little did they know, that would be the last time the star would dawn on a free Cybertron for a long, long time.

* * *

**AN: How was it? I know it's kind of short, but I guess it was okay. The next chapter is the official start of the Second Quintesson War. Should I change one of the genres to Tragedy? I have a feeling this story may be kind of...tragic.**

**Notice:** This is probably going to be the last chapter for a few weeks because I am leaving for Yellowstone National Park tomorrow. I'll be gone for two to three weeks (depending on weather, how our pop-up camper holds up, etc.). I'll try to get up as many chapters as I can before I lose Internet connection altogether, but no promises.

**Anyway, please R&R and I hope you enjoyed!**

**Summary for Next Chapter:** Backbeat struggles to escape Kaon as the Quintessons decimate her world and loved ones.


	7. Looking for a Way Out

**AN: Hello everyone! I am currently on my way to Yellowstone National Park with my family, but I managed to get Internet and finish this chapter. ^^ The title and chapter were inspired by the song Evacuate by Baasik**

**Summary: **Backbeat struggles to escape Kaon as the Quintessons decimate her world and loved ones.

**Glossary: **Strut = Leg; Trod = Thigh

**Notes: **n/a

* * *

**777.05.43**

Many would think that Kaon was the worst place to live, and they were certainly right. However, Kaon had its pros as well as its cons.

When a Cybertronian youngling came of age, AKA fifteen orns, they chose an altmode for themselves. Before the age of fifteen orns, younglings were only allowed to have minimal loads on their T-cogs. Things such as flashlights, tweezers, and necessities were the only things allowed.

A family living in Kaon was preparing for that special day when a youngling "grows up", as the creators always put it. Shortcircuit and Afterglow were beaming with joy, bustling around their humble abode, preparing for the trip into the city to look for altmodes.

Meanwhile, Remix, the femme coming of age, was laying flat on her berth. Her winglets were flattened out behind her, and her two wheels were spinning in agitation. Remix's sire, Shortcircuit, was a Racer. Her carrier, Afterglow, was a Seeker. Remix was a Cycle. She had two wheels in place of her pedes, obviously, and winglets.

Suddenly there was movement on Remix's silver chassis as a small heap moved and stretched, letting out a yawn. "G'morning, sis," muttered the chrome Seekerlet as she crawled off of her sister. Remix patted Backbeat's helm, chuckling affectionately. Backbeat, her little sister, was seven orns old. She had chrome, black, and orange armor. Remix shared the chrome/silver armor, but the similarities stopped there. The chrome had come from their sire, but Backbeat had gotten the black from her carrier.

Remix, on the other servo, had gold detailing like their sire. Her carrier was silver, black, and gold, so they assumed that Backbeat had gotten the orange from her uncle, Haywire. He was Afterglow's brother, and had a family in Praxus. He and his SparkMate, Firewall, were both gladiators in the Praxian Pits. Afterglow often reminded her family how lucky her brother and his family were, seeing as they didn't have to live in or near the Kaon Pits. Remix thought she often heard a hint of jealousy in her carrier's voice.

Remix had only met her cousins once. She had been twelve orns at the time, only an orn younger than one of her cousins, Whiplash. Her other cousin, Ratchet, had been six orns. Backbeat had been five. If she recalled correctly, they had visited their Praxian cousins because Firewall and Haywire had hatched a third youngling, a mech. They had named him Flatline, and to tell the truth, he was a cute little thing. He had orange and white armor like his sire, but also had a lot of black and bright red from his carrier.

Remix shook her helm. She shouldn't dwell on the past. Besides, she was meeting Flashback today! Flashback was Remix's…erm, _friend_. They had grown up in Kaon together, and among Remix's other friends, he was her best. They were going with her sire to choose their altmodes.

"Bye, sis!" called Backbeat as she swiftly vacated the room, speed enhancers activating with a click. A smooth mask slid over her faceplate, and the takeoff wheels on her pedes disconnected from their locked positions, lifting her pedes off the ground and letting the wheels take over. Finally, the thrusters in the heels of her pedes activated, propelling her forward with a burst of flame.

You see, there was a strange thing about her family. Only some of those in their family had it though. As far as she knew, Ratchet, Flatline, Whiplash, and Backbeat had the abilities, as did Afterglow and Haywire. Most bots had yellow or blue optics (and sometimes red, for gladiators), the universal optic colors, although some decided on custom coloration, it was not particularly common. It was known that red energon turned the optics a bright red color, dark energon was purple, and high grade made them fritz like mad, sometimes changing the color a light pink like the fluid. It was unheard of for a bot's optics to change color randomly, or based on a "disease".

At least, that's what most thought. Afterglow claimed it had been a glitch in their family's coding since the Quintessons created them, and had followed the generations. Each affected bot had a "trigger" of sorts. For example, Remix had discovered that Whiplash's trigger was the need to protect. Harm or threaten his family, and boom! His optics turned a distinct shade of green and he lost control. He became stronger and faster, but seemed to lose some of his logic.

Of course, the speed enhancers were just add-ons. Remix and Shortcircuit weren't blessed with them, it seemed to be only Seekers (especially Seekers with her family's "gift") that gained the ability of speed. Remix had to admit that she felt jealous at times; she loved speed! The feeling of the wind in her wheels, the breeze slipping past her winglets, her audio receptors tuned to every musical note in the atmosphere, and her stylish visor clicked over her optics protectively. Remix hadn't been able to transform into an altmode, but she had still been able to roll.

Two-Wheelers came in many different shapes and sizes. Although most were slim, some had certain assets that others did not. Remix was one of the few who could connect her struts, forming one long strut to roll around on. The other wheel moved up the back of her trods, allowing her complete control. It helped her improve her balance, really, preparing her for the day she obtained her altmode.

A sharp cry of "Remix, get down here now! We have to leave if we're going to meet Flashback!" snapped her out of her reverie. Remix sighed and pulled herself to her pedes, stretching and casually walking towards her sire's voice.

* * *

"Why didn't we just pick the one that was three vendors back?" Remix groaned, rubbing her helm in frustration. Flashback rolled his helm around, easing a crick in his neck cabling, then nodded. Shortcircuit rolled around and pointed a digit at them. "Because I want what is best for you!" he cried. "I don't want you getting some scrappy altmode that does you no justice!"

Remix merely rolled her optics and groaned dramatically, then cast a sideways glance at Flashback. The mech in question leaned in to her audio receptor and whispered, "Control freak!" Remix snorted, then followed her sire into the market to look at more potential altmodes.

"How's this?" Shortcircuit asked, pointing to a slick-looking cycle. Remix walked closer and looked at it admiringly. It had a powerful engine, but was curvy and attractive all the same. Remix grinned and quickly scanned it, leaving no room for her sire to argue.

Meanwhie, Flashback had found his own sweet ride to scan. A new model, it was equipped with a roaring engine, smooth rims, and futuristic doors, something that would surely add sauce to his bipedal mode. He quickly scanned it, gritting his denta against the light pain that followed as his armor reformatted itself to match the dimensions of the automobile.

Remix, Shortcircuit, and Flashback met back up at the entrance to the market. Flashback and Remix admired each other's new modifications, before Remix smirked challengingly. "Hey Flash, you wanna race?" she asked. Flashback glanced at her and grinned. "You're on!"

They transformed and raced off with a roar, leaving a faint smell of burning rubber. Shortcircuit sighed and shook his helm, but quickly followed suit.

It was just as she imagined it to be; the road beneath her wheels, the wind rushing past her winglets, Remix was in paradise. She was yanked from that haven, though, as something landed in her path with a rumble, causing her to swerve to avoid impact. Transforming, Remix faced the offender with a growl, but her expression faded when she caught sight of the thing.

It was tall and green, but had mismatched pieces of white armor all over it's body. A light chestplate adorned its front, and its tentacles waved around menacingly. The thing hissed at her, then pulled out a laser rifle and pointed it directly at her.

Remix wasn't stupid, and she knew that in this proximity, the blast would terminate her instantly. Frantically, she searched her memory banks, trying to determine what the creature was. Suddenly she wished she hadn't left Flashback to eat her dust, he would sure be a big help right about now!

Then it clicked. She knew what the creature was: a Quintesson. Created by Quintus Prime, the Quintessons enslaved the bots already living on Cybertron, and started building their own. The art of SparkMerging and Sparking hatchlings was lost to the sands of time, and bots started becoming precisely what organics called them: robots. Then one cycle, a few bots rose up. Led by A3, who was secretly Alpha Prime in disguise, they staged a revolution. Eventually, the bots prevailed. SparkMerging and Sparking became common again, and the Quintessons were thought to be extinct.

"Thought" being the key word here. Remix dodged as the Quintesson struck at her again, but she knew she couldn't keep it up forever. How long did it take a single Racer to come to her aid? Flashback was either too slow, or…Scrap! Flashback had probably been caught by a Quintesson as well, leaving Remix to fend for herself.

The Quintesson lunged again, and Remix dodged once more. Then she twirled around on one pede, having disconnected her struts, and crashed her palm against the Quintesson's jaw, slamming his teeth together and causing him to howl in pain when he bit his tongue. He angrily grabbed her servo and lifted it high, pulling the rest of her along with it, then he slammed her into the ground.

Remix lay stunned on the ground for a nanoklik, before she pushed herself up and took a fighting stance. _I guess I should be lucky Sire taught me self-defense,_ she thought as she pushed her enemy to the ground with a powerful punch.

Suddenly she felt a sickening wrench on her Spark, and she collapsed to the ground. Her cooling fans activated with a hiss, and she doubled over, clutching her chassis. One of the bonds tied to her Spark flickered out.

Shortcircuit was terminated.

Remix shuddered with horror as she fully realized what had happened. Her sire had been terminated by a Quintesson! She suddenly straightened when she felt cold steel touch her neck cables, and her gaze snapped up to the Quintesson, who's yellow eyes glowed in triumph. She stared strickenly at it, optics hollow with grief. She had just enough time to send apologies to her carrier and sister through the bond before the sword was brought down, ending her.

* * *

**AN: I know, so sad. DX So the Second Quintesson War has officially begun, and the Quints have launched their invasion.**

**Oh, and I edited Chapter 5 a bit, so you may want to check that out.**

**The next chapter should have Ratchet, Magnus, Wheeljack, and Backbeat all together (plus Flatline, Perceptor, Pharma, Wolfsbane, and Pyro; oh, and Thundercracker, Slipstream, Skywarp, Starscream, etc.)!**

**Summary for Next Chapter:** It is their first day in Iacon, and Ratchet has already met some interesting characters. While battling with his emotions, he finds himself caught up in a rogue mission into the city. This is sure to go well.


	8. Walls Keep Tumbling Down

**AN: Hey guys! Welcome to the next chapter of Scars of Time! Yay! We have TC, 'Warp, Screamy, and 'Stream! The title of this chapter was inspired by Pompeii by Bastille.**

**Warnings: **n/a

**Summary: **It is their first day in Iacon, and Ratchet has already met some interesting characters. While battling with his emotions, he finds himself caught up in a rogue mission into the city. This is sure to go well.

**Glossary: **n/a

**Notes: **n/a

* * *

**782.06.03**

The Iaconian safe house was huge. Of course, it had to be in order to hold the entire population of Iacon. Unfortunately, that's not what it was holding.

The Quintessons had invaded, killing everything in sight. They wanted revenge for their defeat so long ago. Most of the bots they had built when they ruled were ancestors of the present-cycle bots living on Cybertron now, and they considered these bots to be their property. They claimed the right to do anything they wanted: terminate, build, enslave; but the bots didn't fall for it this time.

As a result of the chaos, all sparklings and younglings were locked in the Iaconian safety vaults. Elite Guard soldiers guarded them at all times, making sure that no enemies entered.

The High Council was serious when they ordered all younglings to be brought to Iacon for safety reasons. They had rounded up every stray hooligan under the age of fifteen orns and all but dragged some of them to Iacon.

That was where Ratchet was now. He, Backbeat, and Flatline all sat together in their little corner, watching as the other younglings milled around. Flatline leaned into his older brother, seeking comfort, and Ratchet obliged. He was now fourteen orns old, and the eldest out of the trio. As soon as he turned fifteen, he would be shipped off to a training camp and forced into the war. Backbeat was thirteen, and Flatline was six.

They had been taken to the vaults after their creators (and Ratchet's brother) had been called to war. Ratchet stilled remembered the cycle they had left.

* * *

_It was a few cycles after the arrival of Backbeat and Afterglow. His creators and Afterglow had been talking, discussing the war and exchanging worried glances. Whiplash had been charged with watching all three younglings, much to his annoyance. Nevertheless, he watched them diligently and entertained them to the best of his ability._

_Then one day there had been a knock on the door. Ratchet ran up to it, eager to answer. He opened the door to see a tall, dark blue mech standing there, a blaster attached to his hip plating and a serious look on his scarred faceplate, as well as a data pad in his servos. Behind him stood two other mechs: a blue and red one who couldn't have been much older than Ratchet was, and his older brother or something, a green mech._

_"Hi!" called Ratchet, but grew confused when the tall mech only cast him an annoyed glance. The youngling noticed that his yellow optics were dull with pain and sadness._

_"Youngling!" he finally barked. "Where are your creators?" Ratchet shrugged. "I dunno."_

_"Right here, sir!" called Haywire as he rushed outside, Afterglow and Firewall on his tail._

_"Are you the one called Haywire?" asked the army mech. Haywire nodded._

_"I am Commander Crossfire. You have been called upon to serve your planet in the army. Cybertron is being attacked by Quintessons, as you no doubt know, and we need all the support as we can get. I see you have Afterglow and Firewall with you. They have also been called to arms."_

_Firewall bowed her helm in acknowledgement, but Afterglow protested. "But sir, I don't know how to fight! Besides, I have a femmeling who needs my care!"_

_"All younglings are being guided to Iacon for safety precautions." Crossfire looked through his data pad, and paused at one section. "Do you have a mechling named Whiplash?" he inquired. Haywire nodded. "Since he is sixteen orns of age, one orn older than the necessary age for joining the army, he is also required to join the war effort."_

_Firewall gasped. She knew he would bring the topic up, but it still surprised her. "I…I'll get him," she murmured faintly, before trudging up the steps to her son's quarters._

_About five kliks later, the whole family was gathered near the door. Crossfire nodded to the adults and Whiplash. "We are on our way to Iacon now, and are bringing all bots with us. Please gather all your valuables," he said before turning and walking into the street._

_Ratchet, Flatline, and Backbeat grabbed their things and entered the transport vehicle waiting for them. Whiplash sat next to them silently, gently rubbing Ratchet's back strut in comfort. Backbeat lay her helm on Afterglow's lap, and Flatline fell asleep in Firewall's servos._

_When they arrived, Whiplash grabbed Ratchet's shoulder and led him away from the group. He knelt down beside him and looked into his optics. "Ratch, listen to me. I...may not come back, and if I don't, I need you to take care of Flatline and Backbeat for me, alright?"_

_Ratchet frowned and nodded at his big brother, lubricant starting to form at the corners of his optics. "But...you'll come back, won't you?" he asked. Whiplash grinned at him. "Hey, I'll do my best, 'kay Ratch?" Ratchet nodded again, then darted forward and embraced his brother. Whiplash rested his helm on top of Ratchet's and wrapped his servos around the smaller mech's back, wary of his small wings. "I promise I'll pay you a visit, alright?" he said. Ratchet nodded and grinned. "I'll hold you to it."_

_Whiplash sighed. "Of course you will."_

_Afterglow gave Backbeat a crushing hug before standing up and walking over to her brother, and Firewall whispered reassuring words to Flatline. When Ratchet and Whiplash came back to the group, Haywire grabbed Ratchet and hugged him close. "Keep 'em safe, 'kay, Sport?" Ratchet nodded, then walked over to Flatline and placed a servo on his shoulder._

_Flatline waved as the transport drove away, carrying most of his family with it. Backbeat watched it sadly, while Ratchet bowed his helm and whispered a small prayer._

_The other youngling, Magnus, turned to them with a solemn expression on his faceplate. "Well, I guess it's just us," he muttered. Backbeat immediately saw an opportunity to cheer someone up, so she ran forward and gave the older mechling a hug. "It'll be alright," she reassured. "I'm sure your bro will be fine," she said while grinning up at him. Magnus looked back down at her, a small smile forming on his faceplate._

_"I promise I'll keep them safe for you, 'Lash," Ratchet whispered as he watched his cousin and brother affectionately._

* * *

That left them where they were now. Magnus had wandered off to talk to other younglings. Finally, Flatline stood up and went off to explore. Backbeat remained, though, and shifted closer to her cousin, lubricant slipping out of her optics in small leaks.

Ratchet put his servo around her shoulder pad and hugged her close as she buried her helm in his torso, frame racked with sobs. Already, she had lost her carrier. They had known it was inevitable. Afterglow had not been a gladiator, she had been an educator, but had nonetheless been forced into the war.

Suddenly Ratchet felt a touch on his shoulder pad. He flinched and turned around to see two mechlings looking at him sympathetically. One of them was bright red with teal servos and a gray crest on his helm. The other one was red and white with blue struts and a white chevron and red crest.

"What do you want?" Ratchet asked shakily. The white mechling frowned and removed his servo. "You look like you need something to cheer you up," he said. "I'm Pharma. This is Perceptor, but we all call him Percy," he teased, glancing at Perceptor, who rolled his optics.

Ratchet looked at them in confusion. Why would they want to help him? He was just a twelve-orn old Seekerlet from Vos! "I'm Ratchet," he muttered anyway. Pharma smiled at him, then took his servo and helped him to his pedes. "Why don't we show you around? We've been here a while, so we know this place inside-out."

Ratchet was about to protest; he needed to stay with Backbeat and keep an optic on Flatline, but he turned around to see that they had both forgotten about him.

Flatline was in the middle of the room, talking to an orange and scarlet mech excitedly. Backbeat was a little ways away, talking to – what he assumed to be – the other mechling's older brother, a red, green, and white youngling. Ratchet sighed in defeat. "Alright."

As they walked down the hallways, Perceptor and Pharma told Ratchet about their lives before the war. Perceptor had been an orphan living on the streets of Altihex with a four other younglings, including Pharma. Perceptor was twelve orns old, and Pharma was eleven.

"Pharma's younger sister and some other orphans we met once we arrived are currently in here," Perceptor said. "There are a lot of younglings here - and not just from Altihex. It started out as just our little group: me, Pharma, and Wolfsbane, Pharma's little sister. We eventually met Wheeljack and his little brother, Pyro. When we were brought here, we met a group of four from Kalis. Thundercracker's the oldest, but Skywarp is only an orn younger. Starscream is the youngest, and Slipstream is a little older than him."

Ratchet looked around uncertainly, but Pharma put a servo on his shoulder pad and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. We're all friends here."

One of the younglings approached the trio and grinned at them, waving to Pharma. He had light blue armor and chevron. "Hey!" he said. "I'm Thundercracker, but you can call me TC." Thundercracker offered his servo out to Ratchet, who took it hesitantly. "How old are you?" Thundercracker asked. "I'm twelve."

Ratchet smiled a little and murmured: "I am too." This earned a cheerful grin from Thundercracker. "Cool!"

"Hey, TC, are you coming or not?" called a second youngling with purple and gold armor. "We can't wait forever! We need your help to organize this!"

Ratchet frowned in confusion. Organize what? Suddenly Thundercracker leaned towards him and whispered, "We're gonna sneak out this night cycle. We wanna see Iacon; you know, being hatched in Kalis and all. Starscream convinced us, but we all want to see what a high-class place looks like compared to…well, Kalis. I'm just glad we weren't hatched in Kaon. I heard that was the first place to be invaded."

Ratchet glanced at him and opened his mouth, but was immediately cut off by Thundercracker. "Of course you can come! We're all going, but in pairs. First it'll be Skywarp and I, then Starscream and Slipstream. After that, Jackie and Pyro; then Pharma and Wolfsbane. You can go with Percy," he said.

Ratchet smiled and nodded. "I'll go with Percy," he confirmed.

Thundercracker grinned. "Alright!" he cheered. "We'll come and get you when we're ready to go."

* * *

He had to admit, the power down arrangements weren't as bad as he thought they would be. Ratchet had thought that all the younglings would be crammed together, but he was wrong. Sure, it was a little cramped, but spacious enough for him to be comfortable.

There were stacked berths against the walls, large enough for at least two younglings. Backbeat, Ratchet, and Flatline were put in one stacked berth. Backbeat insisted on the top berth, so Ratchet and Flatline took the bottom. Flatline powered down against the wall, with Ratchet on the edge, near the floor. He stayed online though, and didn't even shutter his optics. He didn't want Thundercracker to leave him out because he couldn't wake him up!

"Psst."

Ratchet lifted his helm and peered into the darkness, squinting his optics. Finally giving up, he engaged his visor. He flinched back with a startled gasp when the lithe shape of Thundercracker appeared before him.

Thundercracker clapped a servo over his mouth and put a digit to his own. "Shut it!" he whispered. "We're leaving. C'mon!"

The younglings silently left the room. Unbeknownst to them, a dark shadow slipped out behind them, trailing them through the vaults until they reached the exit.

* * *

**AN: Ooh! Cliffhanger. ;) If you haven't noticed, some of these chapters are coming from the old version of this story: Mists of Time (which I deleted, so unless you've read it, you won't know who the silent follower is). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!**

**Another thing: My friend said that perhaps people would enjoy my stories if they had a lot more humor in them. Does anyone have any comments? Should I try to add more humor or should I leave it the way it is? I'll admit, humor isn't really my strong suite, so…**

**Summary for Next Chapter:** Ratchet and Perceptor venture into the dangerous streets of Iacon, and are met with trouble almost immediately. Who is this femmeling? She sure seems suspicious. But what will Perceptor do when he discovers Ratchet's secret?


	9. Just Can't Hold the Rage

**AN: And next chapter is...up! ^^ The title of this chapter was inspired by Monster by Skillet.**

**Warnings: **n/a

**Summary:** Ratchet and Perceptor venture into the dangerous streets of Iacon, and are met with trouble almost immediately. Who is this femmeling? She sure seems suspicious. But what will Perceptor do when he discovers Ratchet's secret?

**Glossary**: n/a

**Notes**: Sola is XxSoundwave6xX's fursona.

* * *

**782.06.03**

"Hurry, over here, quick!" whispered Perceptor as he ran across the street, Ratchet in tow. The Seekerlet was having a hard time keeping up with the other mechling, but he managed.

They had dashed through the streets quickly, avoiding Quintesson and Cybertronian soldiers alike. How Thundercracker and Perceptor had managed to get everyone out unseen would probably remain a mystery to Ratchet forever, and although he hated breaking the rules, he had to admit that Iacon was spectacular, even at times of war.

Suddenly Perceptor held up a servo, making Ratchet stop in his tracks. "Wha–"

"_Boo_!"

Ratchet screeched and grabbed Perceptor's servo, who had backed up at the noise, glancing around frantically. "What was that?"

"It was me, sillies!"

Suddenly a femmeling leapt down from an overhang above them and landed at their pedes. When she straightened out, they could tell that she was not exactly normal.

Strange, feral-looking markings covered her black and red armor; and a long, mobile braid of metal hung down from her helm, twisting around and encircling her digit when she grabbed it. Folded up against the femmeling's back were a pair of wings, but they weren't Seeker wings.

"Woah," Ratchet breathed. "What kind of wings are _those_?"

The femmeling unfurled one of them and looked at it. "You're very observant. Most see these and assume they're Seeker wings. As for your question...I don't really know. They were attached to me when I hatched. They let me fly, though, when I'm in my altmode!"

Perceptor's optics widened. "Wait...what?"

The femmeling giggled. "Right, you don't know what I am? My name is Sola, I'm a Felida. I'm five orns old!" she said cheerfully.

Ratchet glanced at her doubtfully. "You don't _seem_ to be five orns old."

"That's because my species matures much faster than yours, at least while we're young. Once we hit ten orns our processors level out to a normal Cybertronian's maturity at that age. Right now I'm about as mature as a ten-orn old, and I'll stay like that until I actually _am_ ten. Get it?"

Perceptor gave a small nod. "That's...fascinating!"

Sola shrugged. "I guess, but it gets kind of boring sometimes." Suddenly she transformed. "Well, I gotta go!" she called as she dashed away.

Perceptor cast a sideways glance at Ratchet, then burst out laughing. "Weirdest confrontation ever!" he giggled. Ratchet snickered, then glanced down the street where Sola had gone. "Shall we follow her?" he asked. "She seems like she may get in trouble."

Perceptor nodded, then raced down the street after Sola, Ratchet not far behind.

* * *

"So you guys followed me?" asked Sola as she walked alongside the mechlings, now back in her bi-pedal mode. Ratchet shrugged. "We have to stick together. We're on our way back anyway."

Sola nodded absentmindedly, then said, "I've been wanting to get out of that stuffy place for a while, now, but I could never figure out how to escape undetected. When I saw Ratchet leave, I decided to follow, especially since TC was in on the plan as well."

Perceptor glanced at her and nodded. "Nice."

"Guys, I see the safe house!" said Ratchet excitedly. While the adventure had been fun, he was eager to get back to safety. The safe house was barely visible above the horizon, but he knew it was there.

Suddenly Sola shrieked as a blaster shot whizzed by her helm. She leapt into the shadows, optics filled with fear. Perceptor whirled around and faced the attacker, a large Quintesson.

"Well, look what I have here. Three nice younglings just ready for me to incinerate," it said with a maniacal grin. Ratchet shuddered and backed away, dragging Perceptor with him. Sola had climbed up a ladder next to a building and was waiting on the low-hanging roof, watching the confrontation anxiously.

The Quintesson suddenly pulled out a large blade and took a swing at Perceptor, who ducked at the last moment and crawled away on his knees. Sola crouched down on the roof, then transformed and leapt off. She landed on the Quintesson and dug her claws into its head, causing it to scream in pain. Unfortunately for Sola, it grabbed her tail and flung her into a wall, causing her to crash and black out.

Then the Quintesson grabbed Perceptor and threw him into Sola, making him groan and sink onto the ground, holding his helm. Ratchet was the only one left. He glanced up at the creature and he could feel his Spark sink. This was it, he was going to die.

The blade swung down toward him, but at the last moment he felt something shift. _I will _not_ die. Not today, Quint!_ His optics flashed green and the mechling dashed forward, dodging the blade by a hair. He engaged speed enhancers he hadn't even known he had and did donuts around the Quintesson, confusing it so much it dropped its blade and clutched its head. Ratchet smirked, then stopped beside the blade and lifted it. _How in the Pit am I doing this?_ he wondered as he slashed at the Quint, putting a deep gash in its arm. Hefting the sword up, he dodged the Quintesson's blaster and thrust the blade forward, burying it in the monster's heart. Letting go of the hilt, Ratchet felt himself teeter, then collapsed to the ground in a heap.

* * *

When he came to, Perceptor, Pharma, and Thundercracker were staring at him hopefully. Ratchet sat up and clutched his helm in pain. "Ugh...What happened?" he asked sluggishly. Perceptor put a supporting servo on his shoulder and helped him to his pedes, while Thundercracker watched them worriedly. "Percy and some femme – Sola? – carried you back. Percy said you blacked out after going super on them and killing a Quint!" he said rather enthusiastically.

Ratchet frowned and glanced at Perceptor, who nodded. Pharma watched him with wonder-filled optics. "Really? What was it like? Percy said your optics turned green!" Ratchet shrugged. "I...guess it was kind of weird. I felt like I was watching someone else do it, not me, but I still had control."

Thundercracker put a servo on his shoulder reassuringly. "Well, Ratch, you sure are something. But...we've all got our secrets, don't we? Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," he said with a wink. Ratchet nodded wearily, then shrugged the servos off and trudged to his berth.

* * *

**782.06.04**

The next cycle when he awoke, he found Backbeat standing in front of him with her servos on her hip plating and a chastising look on her faceplate. "Explain. Now."

Ratchet sat up and looked at her, but she didn't budge. Finally he broke the gaze and looked at his pedes. "What is there to explain?" he asked, but Backbeat rolled her optics and frowned. "You're a terrible liar, Ratch."

"Fine," he groaned in resignation. "Some friends asked me to go with them to explore. Happy?" Backbeat shook her head. "I saw them bring you in, Ratch. You were out cold. You're lucky the guardians didn't catch you. What happened?"

Knowing resistance was futile, Ratchet sighed and put his helm in his servos. His shoulders started to shake as he fully comprehended what had happened the night cycle before. Backbeat sat next to him and placed a reassuring servo on his shoulder and watched him sympathetically. "Come on, Ratch. You can tell me anything."

"I'm a monster."

"What?" It had been little more than a whisper, and Backbeat hoped she hadn't heard what she thought she had.

"I'm a monster!" he repeated, a little louder than last time. "'Beat, I killed a Quintesson! I ran it through with a huge blade! How is that even _possible_?"

"It's not–"

"Exactly!"

Backbeat sighed and rubbed her optics with a digit, before reopening them and glancing at her cousin. "Ratch, did your optics – Did they...change color?" she asked tentatively. Ratchet's helm shot up and he regarded her with a calculating expression. "Yes."

Backbeat sighed, and hung her helm, then grinned. "Ratch, you're not a monster."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a psychological disorder, Ratch!"

"That doesn't sound much better," he deadpanned, glaring at her. Backbeat let out a short bark of laughter, her optics lighting up with amusement. "My carrier told me about it when mine first appeared. Every bot has a trigger, and I guess yours is...well, I dunno what yours is. Mine," at this she chuckled again, "Well, I've learned to control mine. I guess having a carrier who knows what it's like can help. She told me that your sire had to it too, and they had seen signs of it in you, Flatline, and maybe even Whiplash."

Ratchet widened his optics in surprise. "Woah..."

"I know, right? We're battle machines!" She jumped up and punched the air, optics glowing green and a smirk on her faceplate. She blinked, and her optics returned to their normal yellow color. "Not...that that's a good thing," she muttered, optics suddenly becoming shadowed with grief.

Ratchet stood and wrapped his servos around her in a hug. "Thanks, 'Beat, but I still want to learn more about it."

She sighed. "You and your curiosity, Ratch. You always want to know more, don't you?"

"Knowledge is power," he quoted.

She chuckled at that, then consulted her internal clock when a small bell chimed. "It's time to refuel. Race you there?"

"You're on!"

* * *

**AN: Not entirely proud of this chapter, but I'm so...tired...*dies* Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the little fluff at the end (and the whole chapter, but, whatever XD)!**

**Summary for Next Chapter: **Whiplash and his friends visit Ratchet, Backbeat, and Flatline for awhile. He shows them Crystal City in the distance, while Kup and Magnus catch up. Ambulon starts researching the glitch in Ratchet's system.


	10. Endless Roads to Rediscover

**AN: Next chapter! This one will be pretty much just a bunch of fluff. Remember the promise Whiplash made in one of the previous chapters? Well, he kept it! This chapter and title were inspired by the song Hey Brother by Avicii.**

**Summary:** Whiplash and his friends visit Ratchet, Backbeat, and Flatline for a few cycles. He shows them Crystal City in the distance, while Kup and Magnus catch up. Ambulon starts researching the glitch in Ratchet's system.

**Warnings:** n/a

**Glossary:** Offline = pass out; Klik = Cybertronian minute

**Notes: **n/a

* * *

**783.08.49**

"'Lash!"

Ratchet ran forward and leapt into Whiplash's servos. Whiplash grinned and knelt beside him, grabbing him into a crushing embrace. His friends, Kup, Roadblock, and Ambulon, watched happily.

Kup, Roadblock, and Whiplash were all Wreckers. Ambulon was a medic, but he traveled and fought with the Wreckers enough that they had excepted him as one of their own.

Magnus ran up to Kup and smiled at him before Kup grabbed him and rubbed his helm affectionately. "Hey there, li'l bro," he said.

Backbeat and Flatline approached a little more slowly, but as soon as Ratchet was done, Flatline ran up to Whiplash and gave him a big hug.

"We came just to visit you guys," Whiplash said, "And I brought some friends!" He proceeded to introduce everyone, who waved and smiled at the younglings.

* * *

After everyone had refueled, they went to rest in the entertainment quarters. When Ratchet looked out the window he could see the twin moons just beginning to rise.

"Ratchet, come here."

The mechling in question looked up at Ambulon, who gestured to him and showed him a Data Pad. Ratchet stood and walked over to him, taking the Data Pad and reading it over. He realized it was about the "phycological disorder" Backbeat had told him about.

* * *

**Unmanageable Conduct Disorder**

**What is it?**

Unmanageable Conduct Disorder (UCD) is a psychological disorder caused by a glitch in one's systems. Ever since the invasion of the Quintessons and their defeat on 000.00.00, we've observed many cases of UCD. It was engineered into a few families by the Quintessons, and as of now there is no cure. The glitch travels down the family, infecting some and bypassing others completely. It is not contagious, fortunately.

**How Does it Work?**

Each bot has a trigger emotion that sets them off. The most common triggers are anger and fear, but other emotions such as protectiveness, jealousy, and even sensations like pain have been observed. When the trigger is "activated", the bot's optic color will temporarily change to green. They will become stronger, faster, and more confident. For some this may be good or benefit them, but for others it can have an extremely negative effect. Some may become overconfident or cocky, while others will become downright rude.

**Does it Last Forever?**

No. After the bot loses the emotion that triggered the glitch or they fulfill the task they set out to do, their optics will return to normal and they will be back to themselves. Sometimes bots may offline after returning to normal, while others may not remember the experience.

But there have been recorded cases where the bot has stayed under the influence for an abnormally long time. This usually occurs when the emotion that triggered the glitch will not go away or it is very strong. For example, if an infected bot is extremely jealous of another, they will glitch, but if they remain jealous or still feel jealous they will remain under the power of the UCD.

* * *

Ratchet stared at the Data Pad for a moment more, before glancing up at Ambulon, who was watching him. "Um, thank you, Ambulon," he murmured. Ambulon grinned. "Just thought you might want to know exactly what it is." He suddenly reached out and grabbed Ratchet's shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Ratch," he said. Ratchet nodded and gave the medic a small grin, before turning and walking back to Whiplash.

A few kliks later, Whiplash, Ratchet, Backbeat, and Flatline were sitting on the roof of the safe house. "Just like old times, eh, Ratch?" Whiplash said. Ratchet grinned at him and leaned into his shoulder. "Except this time there are no NewSparks," he mourned. Whiplash chuckled, then placed his servo on Ratchet's helm and turned it to the south.

"Look at that, Ratch. Ya know what that is?" Ratchet shook his head as he watched the glittering lights of a city far in the distance, just barely visible over the horizon.

"It's Crystal City."

Backbeat gasped and clutched Whiplash's servo. "Really? I've heard about Crystal City! My friend, Wheeljack, told me all about it! He said it's where all the really smart scientists go!" Whiplash nodded. "Pretty much," he said.

Flatline grinned and watched the lights as they twinkled and glittered. He even thought he could make out the crystals! It was beautiful.

Below the roof, in front of the safe house, sat Kup and Magnus. Kup was telling his younger brother all about what had been going on in the Wreckers. The door opened and Roadblock came out. He sat down next to Magnus and playfully rubbed his helm. "So you're Kup's infamous li'l bro?" he asked. "The one who tried to lift a pickaxe down in Blaster City?"

Magnus took note of his teasing tone and laughed. "Yep, that's me. I bet I could lift it _now_!" he boasted. Roadblock clapped a servo on his back and chuckled heartily. "Kup, this one's a Wrecker, no doubt about it!" he said. Magnus grinned and shrugged.

"Who knows, maybe I'll have a total personality change."

"I sure hope not," Kup said, cheerfully poking his helm. "I might have to get Ambulon to give you surgery if that happens!"

"No _way_," came a growl.

Kup whirled around and saw the mech he just been talking about leaning against the doorway with his servos crossed over his torso. Kup grinned sheepishly, then patted the ground next to him. "C'mon 'Lon!"

Ambulon rolled his optics at the nickname, but sat down anyway and leaned against the wall. He watched as the stars slowly rose, covering the sky with a shimmering blanket.

* * *

Whiplash bent down and patted Ratchet's helm. Kup had already put Magnus in power down, and Roadblock had to carry Flatline and Backbeat back to their berths. He and Ambulon respectfully waited outside while Kup and Whiplash said goodbye to their loved ones.

"'Lash...promise me that you'll come back...'kay?" murmured Ratchet wearily.

Whiplash gritted his denta. He didn't know whether or not he could keep that promise. "I...I can't, Ratch. But, I will do my best. Alright?"

Ratchet glanced up at him and smiled, then faintly nodded before closing his optics again. "I believe in you, 'Lash."

"I know."

Whiplash stood and left the room with Kup. Together, he, Kup, Roadblock, and Ambulon left the safe house, bidding their goodbyes to the guardians and Elite Guard members.

"Whiplash, you didn't make the promise, did you?" Ambulon asked tentatively. Whiplash shook his helm. "It would hurt him more if I made a promise and didn't return, than if I only told him I'd do my best."

"You act like you know you're going to be terminated."

"I can't dismiss the idea. This is war, 'Lon. Bots die. Only the strong survive."

Ambulon sighed, but stopped discussing the idea after that. He entered their transport vehicle, and they drove away in silence.

* * *

**AN: How did you guys like it? I know it was kinda sad at the end. I don't feel particularly proud of this chapter, but I'm not too great at happy stuff. XD**

**I finished up to chapter 12 while I was in Yellowstone, so I'll probably be updating every day until then. **

**Summary for Next Chapter:** The Wreckers set upon a new mission. Kup, Ambulon, Roadblock, and Whiplash enter a Quintesson fortress, but only three will return alive.


	11. Remember Me for All Time

**AN: Next chapter is up! This one is all about the Wreckers. Whiplash, Roadblock, Kup, and Ambulon will be featured here. ^^ This chapter was inspired by the song, Warrior, by Disturbed**.

**Summary:** The Wreckers set upon a new mission. Kup, Ambulon, Roadblock, and Whiplash enter a Quintesson fortress, but only three will return alive.

**Warnings:** n/a

**Glossary:** n/a

**Notes:** If you want to read more about Roadblock, please visit my little story called "Face Your Fraud". It's a one-shot set during the Autobot-Decepticon War.

* * *

**785.09.12**

"C'mon, hit me again, 'Block!"

"No need to tell me twice, 'Lash."

A crash rang out through the Wreckers' hangar where Whiplash and Roadblock were sparring before their big mission. Whiplash leapt to his pedes and shook his helm, then darted at Roadblock and got three quick punches in before the much larger mech grabbed his shoulder and threw him into the wall.

Ambulon watched with a disapproving gaze. "Is it really necessary to fight so roughly?"

Roadblock turned around. "'Lon, you've been with us long enough that you _know_ it is!"

"Hardly," Ambulon scoffed as he rolled his optics.

Roadblock growled. "Alright, smart-aft, let's go!" Ambulon's optics widened in surprise, and he quickly backpedaled as Roadblock started stomping toward him angrily.

"Just a nanoklik, Roadblock! _Wait_!"

"_Enough_!"

Roadblock paused, his servo primed and ready to pound Ambulon into a stain on the floor. The medic had his servos up in a weak defense, optics screwed shut. Roadblock lowered his servo and turned to the mech who had yelled: Supercharge, the leader of the Wreckers.

"Roadblock, I know that we are Wreckers and as such may have certain...issues, but that does not mean you may clobber our only medic," he deadpanned. Roadblock rolled his optics, but finally held his servo out to Ambulon, who tentatively took it and got to his pedes.

"Sorry, 'Lon."

"I-It's...okay."

Roadblock grinned. "Good!" He proceeded to slap Ambulon on the back, then turned back to the training room and lumbered away.

Supercharge glanced at Ambulon, who was still quivering, and smirked. "Don't worry, Roadblock wouldn't have actually done it. Well, I don't _think_ he would have."

"Shut up."

* * *

Yet another battle with the Quintessons. The Wreckers had been called upon again to fight the invaders. Sometimes Kup wondered if the Elite Guard even did anything at all! But he wasn't complaining; oh no, this was fun.

He was currently infiltrating a Quint outpost with Roadblock, Ambulon, and Whiplash. The plan was: blow the place up. There should be a Data Pad within the ship that had a self-destruct mode, which was what they were aiming for. The room with the Pad was just down the hall, if you followed the schematics.

Kup blasted yet another Quint, then rushed to the door and slapped the scanner to open it, but it displayed the message "Access Denied". He frowned, then looked at the door. Just as he was preparing to blast the hinges–

"Look out!" yelled Roadblock as he barreled right into Kup, smashing into the door and knocking it into the room. Kup shouted and grabbed Roadblock's shoulders as he came to a sliding halt inside the room, barely missing the Data Pad.

Ambulon and Whiplash darted into the room. Ambulon immediately got to work on the DataPad, cracking codes and bypassing firewalls. Kup and Roadblock sidled up to either side of the opening where the door had been, blasters ready. Whiplash crouched on the floor, inspecting a grate that he thought might be useful for escape.

_Boom_!

Whiplash whirled around and engaged his blaster, pointing it at the opening and shooting a few random shots into the smoke, where a grenade had apparently been detonated.

"Got it!" Ambulon cheered just as an announcement came over the intercom: "Security breached. Override code activated. Self destruct sequence begins in 3...2...1...Self destruct sequence has begun. Evacuate premises immediately. 30...29...28..."

Whiplash kicked the grate, knocking the bars off and revealing a vent. "In here, guys!" he yelled. Ambulon sprinted over and ducked into the vent. Kup and Roadblock ran over and began to enter. Kup slipped through easily, but Roadblock eyed the vent uncertainly.

"Ya sure that thing'll hold me, 'Lash?" he asked. Whiplash nodded. "No bot left behind, 'Block, you know that. Now _hurry_!"

Roadblock mock saluted, then squeezed into the opening and crawled away. Whiplash grabbed the bars, then darted into the hole and secured the bars back over it, hoping to buy them a little extra time.

* * *

When they exited, they had hoped to make it safely back to the rest of the group, but they should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Watch it!" called Ambulon as he dodged a blast from a large Quintesson's gun. Kup gritted his denta and ran toward the creature, but it easily knocked him aside. He sat up and rubbed his helm painfully, and soon felt Ambulon crouched by his side, scanning him for any major injuries.

Roadblock emerged and immediately leapt toward the Quint, managing to grab it's neck and pull it back, but was quickly thrown off. Whiplash peered out of the hole, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Finally the Quintesson turned its back to swipe at Ambulon and Kup, and Whiplash made his move.

Activating his speed enhancers, he shot forward and did a flip over the Quint's head, using his blade to put a deep gash in it's scalp. But just as he thought he was clear, a huge hand came and smacked him aside, making the Seeker crack his helm against a metal object sticking out of the ground.

To say he saw stars would be an understatement. Whiplash started tilting to the side as his vision faded to black. Luckily, he was pulled back to the world of the living by Ambulon as he smacked his faceplate.

"Wake up! Stay with me, 'Lash! You have someone waiting for you back home, so don't you _dare_ die on me! Understand, soldier?" he shouted frantically, impatiently awaiting an answer.

"I...understand," panted Whiplash as his optics fritzed and blinked on again. He painfully got to his pedes and staggered a few steps before leaning on Ambulon weakly.

He could hear faint yelling as Kup and Roadblock attacked the Quintesson, but he payed it no mind. When he glanced up, he could tell that it was almost dead. It was bleeding from multiple wounds on its sickly green flesh, and it seemed to be sagging wearily.

Roadblock raced toward the Quintesson, and it seemed like he was about to strike the killing blow, but suddenly the Quint grabbed him by the neck cables and lifted him high above the ground as if he weighed nothing, then slammed him into the ground. Roadblock struggled for a moment, then went still.

Ambulon gasped as the Quint raised its hand, but Kup leapt on its back and managed to distract it momentarily. Ambulon began to rush over to the fallen Wrecker, but Whiplash grabbed his servo and pulled him back.

"It's too dangerous!" he shouted over the blaster fire and yelling, and Ambulon hung his helm. Suddenly he looked up as Kup was sent flying into the other two Wreckers. Whiplash dove to the side, but Ambulon was not so lucky. He and Kup were sent crashing and skidding a ways away from the Quintesson as it lumbered back to Roadblock.

Whiplash gritted his denta when he saw Roadblock twitch. _He's not dead!_ Springing forward, he raced the Quintesson to his friend, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't be too late.

Ambulon struggled to his pedes, grabbing Kup and dragging him up beside him. Kup tried to speak, but all that came from his vocalizer was a burst of static. He shook his helm and pointed a digit to the distance, where they could just make out Whiplash sprinting past the Quintesson and leaping in front of Roadblock. Ambulon shouted, voicebox crackling with static. _He can't! He's crazy! He's not thinking! What about Ratchet? Flatline? Backbeat? His creators? _Us_?_

"_'Lash_!"

Ambulon was right, Whiplash wasn't thinking. Was he crazy? Perhaps.

At the last moment, Whiplash engaged his blaster and aimed at the Quintesson's chest, where Kup had managed to peel away some of its armor. One shot, and the Quint would be dead.

He made the shot.

The Quintesson had a blade of its own, and just as the laser shot left the muzzle of Whiplash's blaster, the Quint brought his blade down for the killing blow.

"_No_!"

* * *

The funeral was long; and something that made it even worse was the fact that Ratchet, Flatline, and Backbeat were not allowed to attend due to "security matters". Ambulon doubted that they even knew Whiplash was gone. Surely they had felt the pain from the Bond snapping, but would they actually know what had happened?

Ambulon blamed himself. He shouldn't have allowed Whiplash to die! After the blade had struck his Spark, he hadn't been terminated immediately. The Wrecker had been rushed to an emergency room, where Ambulon and Cogwheel worked frantically to stabilize him. Unfortunately, it had been much too late to save him.

They had managed to save Roadblock, though. After he had regained consciousness, the large mech had been told the story, and he had taken the news very badly.

_To know that someone else had sacrificed their life for you...it must be difficult,_ thought Ambulon. Would he had felt that way if it had been him that was out there, about to be struck down by a monster when suddenly someone else put their life on the line for him? Would he ever know that feeling? He certainly hoped not.

Ambulon personally had never felt the pain of losing a family member. He had been an orphan since nearly the day he hatched. Never once forming a paternal bond with someone, he hadn't really known what it was like to have a "family".

Breaking the news to Whiplash's creators had been hard; but what about his younger brothers and cousin? Ambulon shuddered at the thought, but it had to be done.

Looks like you were right, 'Lash. Only the strong will survive this war.

* * *

**AN: *sniff* Sad...Why must I write sad stuff? DX I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Did you know it was going to be 'Lash that died? Feel free to share who you thought wouldn't be coming back.**

**Summary for Next Chapter:** Whiplash's termination brings pain and guilt to Ratchet and Flatline, causing some less than flattering words to be said. Their friends try to comfort them, but do not know how to help. Ratchet decides he must be strong, and takes the burden of caring for his family onto his shoulders.


	12. In Ruins

**AN: Hey there! This chapter was inspired by the song 21 Guns by Green Day.**

**I thought I would explain exactly how my "date system" works (you know, the little bold numbers at the beginning of each chapter). I didn't have it completely figured out when I started, but I'm pretty sure I do now. Let's use the date "8.06.36". The "8" is what orn (AKA year) it is. There are ten quartexes (months) and five-hundred cycles (days) in one orn. The "06" is what quartex it is. There are fifty cycles per quartex. The "36" is what cycle it is. The number of orns will keep climbing higher and higher the further we get from the most recent big war. The First Quintesson War is the most recent, so the day that Cybertron defeated the Quintessons the date was reset to "000.00.00". The number of quartexes can only go up to ten before they will reset to "0" and the number of orns will go up one. The number of cycles can only go up to fifty before they reset to "0" and the number of quartexes goes up one. A bot's lifespan is only about one-hundred orns or so (unless they're in stasis), which is like one million Earth years.**

**I hope that helped! I will be resetting all the dates to fit in with my system.**

**Summary:** Whiplash's termination brings pain and guilt to Ratchet and Flatline, causing some less than flattering words to be said. Their friends try to comfort them, but do not know how to help. Ratchet decides he must be strong, and takes the burden of caring for his family onto his shoulders.

**Warnings:** n/a

**Glossary:** n/a

**Notes:** n/a

* * *

**785.09.12**

"Bleh! What type of Energon _is_ this, anyway?"

Ratchet rolled his optics at Backbeat. "It's low-grade, 'Beat," he reminded her. She simply made a face and pushed the cube away. "It tastes horrible!"

"I think it tastes okay," said Magnus after he took a sip. "A little bland and watery, but fine." He drained his cube, then reached for Backbeat's discarded one. Unfortunately for him, someone else had already grabbed it.

"Sorry!" Wheeljack said, not really looking that sorry about it. He gulped the Energon down in one swig, then tossed the empty cube into the center of the table. "Bullseye!" Magnus rolled his optics and huffed in annoyance. Wheeljack was so immature sometimes!

Backbeat snickered at his antics, then grabbed Ratchet's cube and tossed it to Magnus, who caught it with a grin. Ratchet rolled his optics.

"Thanks 'Beat, I wasn't in need of fuel anyway," he deadpanned in annoyance. Backbeat shrugged, then stood up and stretched. Wheeljack laughed, then jumped up and grabbed her around the hip plating, pulling a yell from her as he twirled her around the room.

Ratchet stared at them with wide optics as the mechling spun her back onto her stool before sitting down in his own, and Magnus looked like he was about to blow a gasket. Pharma broke into laughter, and eventually Perceptor, Thundercracker, Skywarp and most of the other younglings in the room did as well.

Backbeat blushed, then waved it off and playfully smacked Wheeljack on the helm.

After everyone was finished, it was back to the berthroom. The guardians herded all the younglings through the hallway and into the room, then shut the door behind them.

Ratchet, Backbeat, and Flatline sat on their berth, where Backbeat was plaguing Ratchet with questions about his trip out of the safe house.

"How did you get out?"

"Well, TC found the way-"

"Was it fun?"

"Yeah, but it was kind of-" He was cut off, though, as a flash of white hot pain flashed through his spark, causing him to double over and clutch his torso. He squeezed his optics shut and whimpered, trying to bear through it. A few pairs of servos were placed on his back and shoulder pads. Frantic calls of "Ratch!" and "What's wrong with them?" swirled around his audio receptors. By his side, he could tell that Flatline was in the same position as him, except he was screaming and clawing at his armor.

Backbeat shifted around on the berth, rubbing her torso as faint flashes of pain arced through her spark. Just enough pain to make her feel uncomfortable, but not enough to hinder her. She grabbed Flatline and drew him close, trying to calm him down. The pain he was going through was the same pain she had felt when her creators and sister had been terminated. Someone close to them must have fallen in battle.

Perceptor and Wheeljack were crouched beside Ratchet, trying to get him to calm down, but it wasn't working. Thundercracker approached and laid a servo on his shoulder pad. "Their brother or one of their creators must have been killed," he whispered quietly.

"Wait!" said Wheeljack as he leaned in closer. "He's saying something."

"…lash, Whiplash, Whip…"

Wheeljack leaned back and looked over at Perceptor and Thundercracker. "It's his brother. Something must have happened to him," he said solemnly.

Ratchet and Flatline were starting to calm down a bit. Ratchet started to relax, and he slumped into Thundercracker and Perceptor's hold. Flatline leaned back and cuddled up to Backbeat, seeking comfort anywhere he could.

Luckily, someone had gotten a guardian. She rushed in and ran up to the younglings, then knelt down beside them. She waved Perceptor, Wheeljack, and Thundercracker away and pulled Ratchet and Flatline close to her. "Come on," she said. "I'll take you two up to the communicator." Standing up, she grabbed their servos and lead them out of the room and down the hallway.

Backbeat watched them leave, then got up and walked over to Perceptor, who was laying on his berth and was now fiddling with some mechanical device. He sat up and patted the berth beside him. "Go ahead. Sit down, if you'd like." Backbeat smiled gratefully and plunked down on the berth. "What'cha makin'?" she asked wearily.

Perceptor turned toward her and held the device in his palms. "Just a little something I am preparing for Wheeljack. It's a cloaker. You know, invisibility? I decided to try it my luck at building one." He noticed that Backbeat was staring at him in awe, and he looked away sheepishly. "My sire was a scientist, and my carrier was an engineer. I picked some things up from them, I guess." Backbeat nodded, then reached out for the cloaker. He gave it to her, then grinned as she turned it this way and that, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Aha!" She flipped a switch and the little machine whirred to life. Two little clamps extended from it, and Backbeat took the hint and placed it on her servo. Suddenly her form flickered, then fizzled into nothing. Perceptor jumped up and smiled triumphantly. "It works! It really works!"

She came back into sight and looked at him hopefully, making the future scientist roll his optics.

"You can keep it."

"Yes!"

Soon enough, though, they had been returned to their slump. How were Ratchet and Flatline doing? Were they alright? What was going on?

* * *

Ratchet and Flatline entered the communication room and stood at the back, staring down at the floor. Suddenly the bell rang, signaling the entrance of someone. The guardian left, but was back soon with three bots that Ratchet and Flatline knew very well: Kup, Ambulon, and Roadblock, who all looked like they had seen better cycles.

"Hey," was Ambulon's greeting. Ratchet looked up at him with hopeful optics, but saw no hope in Ambulon's. It was then that he knew for sure: Whiplash was gone.

"Ambulon…"

"I'm sorry, Ratch, I-"

"You're a medic, Ambulon. You should have been able to save him!"

Ratchet looked away from Ambulon, who stared at him hopelessly.

"I'm so sorry..."

They slowly walked to another room, and Ratchet found himself standing next to Ambulon.

"The official funeral has already happened. Your creators are fine," the medic said softly, but the youngling didn't react.

A case sat in the center of the room, and Ratchet knew it held the frame of his big brother. Flatline remained beside his brother, now the oldest, huddled against his torso. At some point Backbeat had entered, as she stood beside Kup and Magnus on the other side of the room. Roadblock was on the other side of Ambulon, helm bowed in regret.

They stood in silence for a while, just contemplating what had happened. Suddenly Roadblock spoke.

"We tried our best," he said, "but in the end, he was too stubborn. It was considered a suicide mission, yes, but that's what they're called _before_ we do them."

Ambulon took over, blank optics staring down at Ratchet and Flatline.

"He saved Roadblock's life, Ratchet. I did everything I could to save him, but even medics can't save everyone."

Ratchet only nodded, staring at the floor as silence swelled like a balloon in the small space. Faintly, he could feel sympathetic feelings prodding his spark, most likely from Backbeat. He sent reassurance through the Bond, then blocked the signals, wanting to be alone for a while. He could feel Backbeat's questioning gaze on him, but he ignored it.

_Oh 'Lash, why did you have to go? You always told me to be strong, but how can I without you? Did you know you were going to die? Is that why you didn't promise me? I suppose it's for the best, anyway..._

Glancing over at his cousin and little brother, Ratchet remembered the promise that _he_ had made. _I promised you, 'Lash...I''ll keep them safe._

* * *

The unofficial funeral lasted for a long time, but eventually the younglings went back to their quarters and climbed into the berths. Backbeat did her best to answer all the questions since Ratchet and Flatline ignored everyone who asked them. They just wanted rest.

Ratchet remembered when Backbeat's carrier had died. She had been taken from the facility and had been gone for several cycles. When she came back, she had said that they went to a funeral for her. Apparently it was too dangerous and too far in the war, now. That same thing had happened to many of the other younglings, recently and earlier during the war.

He was almost old enough now. In a few quartexes, an army general, probably Crossfire, would come to Iacon and take all of the younglings who had turned fifteen orns to a training camp. They would receive combat altmodes and would soon be ready to join the war effort with the guild of their choosing, although some required admission forms: Wreckers, Elite Guard, Secret Operations, and quite a few others.

_At least I'd be with Percy, TC, and Magnus,_ Ratchet reminded himself. But what if they were injured, or worse?

From a distance, Perceptor, Wheeljack, Thundercracker, Pharma, and Magnus watched their friends as they fell into power down.

"I hope they're alright," said Thundercracker before he stood and went back to his siblings, looking at them with a new respect and feeling of protection. Pharma and Wheeljack nodded as they left, leaving Perceptor and Magnus. The former rolled into the bottom bunk and stared up at the bottom of the one above, where Magnus was curling up for his own power down.

_War brings out the worst in us, it's true, but it also determines where loyalties lie and and how trustworthy your friends truly are._

Little did Perceptor know, he was closer to the truth than he thought.

* * *

**AN: Again, why must I write sad things? Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. ^^ I especially liked the BackbeatxWheeljack part. XD Magnus was so mad...Please ignore my ship fantasies. XD Ugh, I am typing this all on my iPad, then copying and pasting it to , which takes ****_forever_****…Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! ^^ **

**Summary for Next Chapter:** Flatline's pain overwhelms him and he goes somewhere quiet to clear his processor. Instead of clarity, though, he hides his pain behind a mask. He closes himself off, not allowing anyone to help him. He ventures into the city alone, thinking he can take on the Quintessons.


	13. Madness Taking Hold of the Spark

**AN: Hey, guys! Welcome to the next chapter of Scars of Time. This chapter was inspired by the song The Night by Disturbed.**

**Summary:** Flatline's pain overwhelms him and he goes somewhere quiet to clear his processor. Instead of clarity, though, he hides his pain behind a mask. He closes himself off, not allowing anyone to help him. He ventures into the city alone, thinking he can take on the Quintessons.

**Warnings:** n/a

**Glossary: **n/a

**Notes: **n/a

* * *

**785.09.15**

_Gone...How could he?_ Flatline growled and clenched his servo into a fist as a particularly rambunctious mechling ran past him. Why was everyone so _loud_? Didn't they realize he was _grieving_? Couldn't they give him some _space_?

Of course they wouldn't! Nobody cared about _him_, did they?

The yelling and screaming continued, blasting Flatline's audio receptors. Finally, he stood and ran out of the room, covering his audials. He sprinted to a different room at the end of the hallway, full of windows. Nobody else was there.

Peace and quiet, finally.

It was there that he thought about Whiplash with a clearer processor. Why had he done it? Ambulon had said that Whiplash had saved Roadblock, but why would he do such a thing? Why give your life for someone else when you could just as easily save yourself? Either way someone was dying, right?

Whiplash, Roadblock, Kup, and Ambulon had been a tight-knit group. Even as a young mechling, Whiplash had contacted the rest of the group through the DataNet Communication Grid with their home Data Pad. Flatline recalled Ratchet whining when he was younger because Whiplash was always "hogging the Data Pad".

But still, that didn't excuse the fact that Whiplash had done it! Why would he just leave his family? Why would anyone _do_ that? Didn't he _love_ them? Didn't he _care_?

Flatline could feel his Spark pulsing faster and faster as pain flowed into it. It was all Roadblock's fault! The Wreckers were supposed to be indestructible! Roadblock should have been able to escape! He didn't need Whiplash's help! He was _stupid_! _Whiplash_ was stupid!

One question burned in his processor: _Why_?

And then he snapped.

Pain filled his Spark, and one thought took over his processor, blocking out the previous inquiry: Destroy. Green optics blinked on, and Flatline broke through the window and sped into the street, heightened senses on the lookout for any movement.

There!

He swung into an alley, where two small Quintessons scavenged for scraps out of the dumpsters. Flatline ducked beneath one, looking for anything he could use against the invaders.

Something caught his optic: an Energon pistol. Just a small one, but deadly in _his_ servos. Grabbing it, the mechling aimed at the head of one of the Quints. One blast, and it fell to the ground, neck smoking where its head had been.

The other Quintesson turned and hissed, but it was cut off with a gurgle when the next blast hit its chest. Flatline smirked as he slid out from underneath the dumpster.

"Bullseye, Quint."

"Not so fast, Squirt."

Flatline shouted as something lifted him up by his clavicular armor and spun him around so he was facing a much larger Quintesson. It hissed at him, showing off its array of pointy gnashers, making the youngling widen his optics in fear.

Suddenly he remembered that he still had the pistol. He lifted it up and fired a shot right into the Quint's eye, making it drop him with a shriek. Flatline smirked and activated his speed enhancers, about to take off when a large hand came down and smashed him into the ground, destroying the pistol.

The Quintesson grabbed him and pushed him against a wall, hand pressing down on his neck cables threateningly.

"Stop!" Flatline croaked, scrabbling uselessly at its thick-skinned hand. "Please..." His vision got fuzzy and started to fade to black...

* * *

"Where is Flatline?" Ratchet questioned anxiously. He and Backbeat had looked all over the berthroom, but they couldn't find him. They were about ready to check the other rooms.

"I saw him go in the room at the end of the hallway," suggested Pyro. He was just as worried about Flatline as Backbeat and Ratchet were.

Ratchet nodded in thanks, then ran down the hall with Backbeat in tow. When they arrived, he opened the door and stepped in.

"Flatline?" he called, but there was no answer. Glancing at Backbeat, he could tell that although she wasn't showing it, she was starting to panic.

"Look!" she whispered. Following her gaze, Ratchet saw a shattered window at the back of the room, leading into the streets of Iacon.

"He...snuck out," Backbeat concluded, optics wide with disbelief.

"How _dare_ he? Doesn't he know how dangerous that is?" Backbeat's ranting continued, but Ratchet finally stopped her with a gentle servo on her shoulder.

"You know what we have to do, right?"

"Of course, we–"

"Follow him."

"_What_?" She reeled back and stared at him. "That wasn't what I was thinking at _all_! We have to tell a guardian, they can find him."

Ratchet growled. "It would be too late by then, 'Beat. He's in trouble, I can feel it!"

Backbeat turned her helm, staying quiet for a few nanokliks before finally sighing.

"Fine."

* * *

This was it. He was going to die.

Flatline was caught in the Quint's grip, which hadn't loosened in the slightest. If anything, it had gotten tighter. All he could see now was a tiny dot inside a tunnel of black. The cables in his neck hissed and popped as they stretched and broke with the Quintesson's hold.

Just as he thought it was over, the hand disappeared. Flatline fell to the ground, limp and ragged, and curled up into a ball, shutting his optics and whimpering.

Time flew by, and he could faintly feel someone picking him up and carrying him back to the safe house, where they jumped through the window he had left through. Why would they go that way? Shouldn't they just take the front entrance? Were they _mocking_ him?

They must have taken him to the medical bay, because the last thing he saw was Ambulon's faceplate, before he sank into the realm of unconsciousness.

* * *

"–line? Flatline! Wake _up_!"

"Ugh..." Flatline groaned as his optics onlined. He could make out the faint outline of Ambulon, who seemed to be checking his vitals. But why did he have a yellowish tint?

Flatline reached a servo up to his optics, and found he was blocked by a thin layer of glass-like material.

"Wha...What?"

"I installed a visor in front of your optics, as well as a full facemask. Ratchet and Backbeat received the same upgrades. Here, you might want to read this," Ambulon instructed as he tossed Flatline a Data Pad. It talked about something called "UAS" or some other silly name, but Flatline skimmed through it anyway.

"The visor will keep others from seeing your optics, and the facemask will help you when you have your speed enhancers engaged."

"Oh." Flatline glanced up at Ambulon and handed him the Data Pad. "Th-Thanks."

"No problem, youngling. Just don't do that again, alright? You scared your big brother. You owe him an apology and a thank you, you know. He saved your life."

Ambulon nodded goodbye, then left the room. Ratchet and Backbeat entered, worried expressions visible on their faceplates. Ratchet rushed forward and embraced Flatline.

"I'm so sorry, 'Line. I should have–"

"No...It's my fault. I shouldn't have let my emotions control me."

"Just remember, we're always here for you," promised Ratchet. "You can count on it."

Backbeat walked up and kissed Flatline's helm comfortingly. "Are...Are your optics still, you know...green?" she asked tentatively. Flatline glanced up at her and gave a small nod.

He still felt full of adrenaline, like he could do anything. He felt like he was the best; he could win this war single-handedly! But...he didn't tell Backbeat that.

She patted his shoulder reassuringly. "If you need to talk to us about anything, we're here, 'kay?"

"Yep."

"Alright. C'mon, Ratch, let's go."

Ratchet nodded, then walked out of the room behind Backbeat.

Flatline buried his helm in his servos, his shoulders shaking lightly. Why was this happening to _him_? What did he ever do to _deserve_ this?

_Well,_ he decided, _I'm not going to stand by and try to avoid it like Ratchet and Backbeat. I'm going to use it!_

With a smirk, Flatline knew that he would learn to master his ability. He would be the best! Quintessons and Cybertronians alike would bow down before him, praising his name and fearing his wrath.

Emperor Flatline. Fitting.

* * *

**AN: Kind of a short chapter, but I hope you guys like it! Flatline is kind of...eh. One moment he wants to be normal, the next he wants to rule the world. XD**

**Summary for Next Chapter:** The Iacon safe haven is destroyed, leaving all the younglings with nowhere to go. They all split up and flee from the Quintessons, trying to survive. The Cybertronians' forces are decimated; the Wreckers: broken, the Elite Guard: haggard and weak. Some have started to abandon the planet, thinking it dead. Can Kup, Roadblock, and Ambulon meet up with the others and find a way to win the war?


	14. Can't Be Outmatched, Can't Be Outrun

**AN: Hello! Guess what? The Quintesson War arc is almost over! So, I have a question for anyone who's willing to answer: should I make a whole new story/book for the next part, Peace, and yet another for the Autobot-Decepticon War? I was originally planning on just mashing everything together, but I don't know which would be easier.**

**Anyway, this chapter was inspired by the song "The Catalyst" by Linkin Park. ^^ Enjoy!**

**Glossary:** Strut = Leg; Meshsteel Webbing = the stuff that Airachnid shoots out to trap others, I also think of it like loose skin (eg. the meshsteel webbing between Riptide's digits); Digit = Finger; Protoform (my version) = "Bones"; Breem = Hour; Klik = Minute; SparkCycle = Birthday

**Warnings:** Injuries?

**Notes:** I'm calling Cybertron's sun a star (eg. starlight instead of sunlight) because the "Sun" is the name for our star, and I really don't know what they would call theirs, so...Maybe Sol? I dunno. XD Also, Eyrmia is my fursona. She is like Sola. She is a crossbreed of a modern Predacon known as a Lupin (see earlier chapters for info) and a Seeker. Similar to Sola, she has the advanced aging, but not quite as advanced since she is not purebred. For a ref pic of her, use this link: _ art/TFP-OC-Eyrmia-470913242 _(just enter that on Google or something and the first link that pops up should be the pic; it's on DeviantArt). Riptide is my friend's character/fursona (he isn't quite sure yet). Think of the crest on his helm a little like Knockout's. A ref pic should be up soon, so I'll post the link ASAP.

* * *

**785.09.25**

A few cycles had passed since Flatline's incident, but everyone seemed to be doing pretty well. Perceptor, Ratchet, Magnus, and Thundercracker had become quite nervous, seeing as their SparkCycles were approaching fast. Normally, it was a joyous event, but the younglings would be turning fifteen orns old, which meant two things: 1) they would get their altmodes, and 2) they would be shipped off to military training for the War.

On his berth, Ratchet sat picking at some paint that was peeling on his shoulder in boredom. Pharma and Thundercracker sat on either side of him, dozing off. All was quiet, and warm starlight poured through the heptagon-shaped laser-proof enforced windows.

Suddenly a small shape burst into the room, and Ratchet immediately recognized her as Sola. She was looking around frantically, tensed and sank low into a defensive position. Ratchet slowly sat up and eased off the berth, then slowly approached her.

"Sola–" he began, but she shushed him by putting a clawed servo over his mouth, a digit to her own in a signal to be silent. She looked out the window and narrowed her optics, then cautiously crept up to the window and peered out.

When she relaxed, Ratchet assumed it had been a false alarm, but then she released an Energon-curdling scream and dove to the floor. Thundercracker and Pharma startled into consciousness and fell off the berth in a heap, poking their helms up and whipping them around in a panicked way.

Ratchet stole a glance out the window and his optics widened with surprise. Smoke rose from several buildings around their own, and in the distance he could see rockets shooting forward with surprising speed.

Too late, the evacuation alarms rang. Younglings leapt out of their berths and raced toward the door, crowding around the small opening in their attempts to escape. Ratchet hefted Sola up and shook her awake, sending her in the direction of the door before running back to make sure Thundercracker and Pharma made it out safely.

Just as he was nearing his berth, an audial-shattering crash rang throughout the room and Ratchet barely managed to skid to a stop as a huge portion of the roof crashed down in front of him, cutting him off from the exit.

The mechling shouted and pressed himself to the wall as more debris tumbled around him, clouding the air with fog and choking his fans with shrapnel. He crouched down and covered his helm in his servos, wings flattened to his spinal strut in fear and and frame visibly trembling.

Few actually made it out of the building, and most who did were immediately shot down by Quintesson foot soldiers. The Cybertronian soldiers cursed, as they could not infiltrate the collapsed building until the dust settled and the Quintessons were taken care of.

Ratchet wasn't the only one who survived the destruction, though.

* * *

Far from where he was trapped, a group of four younglings lay conked out on the ground. The first one to awake was a young femmeling, only five orns or so. She glanced over at the other three who had been stranded with her, she vented nervously and scooted into the shadows, metal Lupin ears flattening to her helm and tail curling around her struts nervously. Her small Seeker wings lowered when she noticed movement.

Another youngling, a mech, who was also five orns old awoke not long after the Lupin-Seeker hybrid and sat up, servos raising into the air as he stretched and looked around, optics widening as he wondered where he was. What was going on? Why wasn't he in his nice, comfy berth?

Finally, the other two mechlings gained consciousness. Starscream squeaked and grabbed his older brother's waist, burying his helm in Thundercracker's side as the older mechling shook his helm and looked around.

They were trapped in a small space, surrounded by chunks of the ceiling and wall, twisted out of recognition. Thundercracker remembered that he had been in the hallway seeking out his brothers and sister, Pharma not far behind him, keeping an optic out for Wolfsbane. He had found Starscream and had Slipstream in his sights, but Skywarp was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, the wall had caved in on his left and the ceiling on either side of him had crashed down. The impact must have knocked him temporarily offline.

Slowly, Thundercracker tried to stand, but found he couldn't put weight on his left strut without searing pain flashing through his circuits. Cursing, he lowered himself to the ground and began to crawl toward the five-orn-old mechling that had made Starscream jumpy.

TC extended his servo to the mechling, who looked at him with huge blue optics. The Seeker knew that the little mech would grow to be a sleek Racer, if he survived. The mentioned mechling curled away from Thundercracker, whimpering slightly. Thundercracker sighed, then chittered in the Seeker dialect comfortingly. He knew that the youngling wouldn't understand, but the language still seemed to comfort him.

Slowly, the little cyan mech crawled forward and hugged TC's servo. TC worked his vocalizer and finally said, "So, what's your name?" tentatively. His voice was laced with static, probably from all the dust and particles in the air that were clogging up his gears.

"Riptide," came a small voice. Riptide looked up at Thundercracker and smiled. His helm was adorned with a tall crest, and his audials had little fins poking off. The Seeker could even see flexible meshsteel webbing in between Riptide's digits. All in all, little Riptide looked to be extremely aerodynamic in air or beneath the waves.

Suddenly he felt someone poking his side. TC turned around to see Starscream, who was glancing uncertainly into the shadows. "I saw something move, Thunder," he whined. Thundercracker stood and walked over to the shadows, surprised when something moved and started to scamper away. He leapt forward and grabbed the shape, wincing when it clawed his faceplate.

"Get _off_!"

He instantly released the figure, optics wide with surprise as the little thing growled at him and scuttled away, curling protectively around itself. Faintly, he thought he could hear it chitter in Seeker speak, and he tentatively chittered back, causing it to look up at him and shiver.

"Hello," he started. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The thing just growled and uncurled, sitting and staring at Thundercracker. All he could really see of it were its large orange optics, as well as the decals decorating its frame and the parts illuminated by the light.

He scooted backward into a patch of starlight that shone through a tiny hole in the roof, holding his servo out in a comforting gesture. "Please?" he begged. After a few kliks of stillness, the shape emerged from the shadows.

It was a femmeling who only looked to be about five orns old. Seeker wings perked up from her spinal strut, and she appeared to have two pairs of audio receptors, as well as a tail of sorts. Deep in his memory banks, Thundercracker remembered reading about a type of modern Predacon known as Lupin. Is that what she was? Why did she have Seeker wings then?

"My name is Eyrmia, but you can call me Mia," she said, gazing at him in a sort of bashful manner, although her posture was straight, making her seem taller than her true age. She was balanced on a pair of wheels that seemed to take the place of her pedes, but he could see what appeared to be – claws? – attached to her struts. Each servo held three digits, instead of five, which struck him as odd. But what confused the Seeker the most, though, was that she already had all of her armor.

Before younglings received their altmodes, they usually did not have any visible altmode armor. Yes, Seekers would still have their cockpits and wings, and those with doorwings, rodors, cannons, or other add-ons that determined things such as race or vehicle would be there, but the unique aspects of the vehicle would not appear (with the exception of anything carried over from creators, like unique parts of the armor like pelvic plating, shoulders, a certain part of the torso, helm, etc.).

So why did the femme already appear to have an altmode?

Mia sat down beside Thundercracker and hunched over, pulling her knees up to her torso and resting her helm on top of them, optic shutters drooping and optics dimming in exhaustion. Thundercracker watched her sympathetically, then looked around at the others. It must be especially hard on them, not knowing where their families are, not knowing what's going on, and only hoping that they will still be alive when everything is over.

* * *

In another part of the building, Backbeat, Magnus, and Wheeljack were just waking up. Backbeat clutched her helm and groaned as stabbing pain throbbed, giving her a pounding helmache. Magnus stood and started to help Wheeljack to his pedes, but a yelp from the mechling stopped him as he clutched his servo, gritting his denta against the searing agony.

Backbeat staggered to her pedes, dizziness coming over her in waves, and she clutched someone's shoulder as unconsciousness threatened to take her. She looked up and grinned apologetically at Magnus, before leaning against the wall and shutting her optics, pinching the portion of her helm between her optics as the helmache returned with more force.

Wheeljack finally got to his pedes, holding his servo to his chassis protectively. Energon dripped from it, and Magnus could see that some of the protoform beneath was bent out of proportion and cracked. When he looked at Backbeat, he could see multiple rips in her helm leaking Energon, which was probably the cause of her dizziness and helmaches.

A sudden crash made Magnus whirl around, optics flicking to and fro. More crashes soon followed, and pinpricks of starlight appeared on the floor. Magnus stood protectively in front of the younger mech and femme, servos balled into fists in case danger was on the other side.

Fortunately, the other side held friends.

Magnus relaxed his servos as his brother leapt forward and embraced him. Roadblock and Ambulon stood behind him, grinning in relief. Wheeljack whooped for joy, and Backbeat winced, rubbing her audial, before raising her servo happily.

Ambulon glanced at the younglings in concern, already scanning them to see the extent of their injuries. He quickly ushered them into a waiting transport vehicle, then got in, followed by Kup and Roadblock.

As the vehicle began to move, Kup turned to Magnus. "So...any idea what happened to the others?"

Magnus shook his head and frowned, but Ambulon spoke next.

"Wheeljack, Backbeat, do you know if Flatline, Ratchet, and Pyro are alive?"

They both nodded.

"The links are weak, but I can tell that they are there," Backbeat whispered, optics considerably dim from loss of Energon. Ambulon pulled her close and rubbed the undamaged portion of her helm comfortingly. "Just hang on, Backbeat," he muttered. He had no doubt that if they hadn't found them when they did, Wheeljack and Backbeat would probably have gone into stasis from Energon loss and eventually died.

When they arrived at a nearby military base, Backbeat and Wheeljack were rushed to the medical bay and repaired speedily. After a few breems, all three younglings were sitting in front a holodisplay watching for updates on the War.

Ambulon sighed and rubbed his optics wearily. After Iacon had been destroyed, bots had begun to lose hope. There was word that some of the higher castes were already booking flights to the colonies like Velocitron and Junkion to escape their "inevitable doom".

"You alright, 'Lon?"

"Kup..."

"I know, I know, you don't like that name."

"Then don't use it."

Kup rolled his optics. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Are you alright?" Kup deadpanned, punching Ambulon's shoulder playfully.

Ambulon tried and failed to give him a real grin, and instead decided to hang his helm. "I just...I don't know, Kup. I feel like I failed Whiplash somehow."

"Why ever is that?" Kup asked, placing a servo on his friend's servo sympathetically.

"Ratchet and Flatline could be dead, and its all our fault! Things are falling apart, Kup. The Quintessons are acting like they're the best–"

"Well, 'quintessence' does mean something like 'perfect'," Kup interrupted, earning a scathing glare from Ambulon. The Wrecker gave a wry grin and cleared his vocalizer with a burst of static. "Continue."

"And...it's like we're just drones to them. They always seem to have a counterattack for each of our own, pulling us down by the hundreds each cycle and keeping their numbers strong," Ambulon concluded, optics shutting against the lubricants that threatened to spill over. "Our planet is so inclined to war, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the cause of our downfall."

Kup looked at the medic, then sighed and slowly removed his servo. "Never lose hope, 'Lon. Skill may be what determines your place in a battle, but it is how your faith holds in the most hopeless of situations that determines a true mech." With that final message, Kup turned and left the room.

Ambulon kept his helm down, staring at the ground in contemplation. "Sound advice, old friend," he whispered. "I just wish we could take it to Spark."

* * *

**AN: *chuckles nervously* Seriously, I think I may have a writing sickness that makes me write sad stuff...(just kidding; I've just always found that it's easier for me to write serious stuff than lighthearted stuff, that's my friend's forte; besides, this part of the story is pretty serious XD). I hope you liked it! ^^**

**Oh, and for those who follow ****Wild Nature****, I haven't forgotten about it! I'm just trying to get my life sorted out, what with school starting again soon and dealing with "best friend drama" (plus the fact that all the writing I do is done on my iPad Air, so...yeah! ^^).**


	15. Stay at Home

**AN: Hello! ^^ This is the last chapter in the Second Quintesson War arc. After that, we will begin the Golden Age! Yay! Also, I started a new story called ****A Little Cultural Spice**** to post different pieces of poetry for my TF stories in, so check that out if you'd like! Most of the songs will be from during the Autobot-Decepticon War, so you might not want to read them unless you want spoilers. This chapter was inspired by the song "End of the World" by Armor for Sleep.**

**Glossary: **Arachnicon = think of Airachnid

**Warnings: **It's a little gruesome at the end if you really visualize it, so be on your guard for that.

**Notes: **Sentinel Zeta is (if in PrimeVerse from the books Exodus and Exiles) Sentinel Prime/(if in PrimeVerse from the WFC and FOC games) Zeta Prime. The Underworld is a place below Crystal City that's full of modern Predacons (Lupin & Felida) and Scraplets, as well as other monsters. The Manganese Mountains also have these creatures. For those of you who haven't seen Transformers 4, Transformium is basically what the bots are made of. In my universe, it's what they build the chrysalis/cocoon out of that they place the NewSpark in. The sparkling eventually hatches from this egg of sorts (as explained in previous chapters). The Quintesson Lords are kind of like the "multi-faced" Quints from G1, except they are more deadly and have legs (sorry if I inadvertently offended any G1 fans, my bad; I don't really watch G1 much anyway, so apologies if I got something wrong). Since the bots don't appear to have microphones, I think they can either just project their voice at will or use their comm system to make it louder.

* * *

**785.09.26**

Ambulon groaned and rubbed his chevron as Backbeat and Wheeljack ran in circles around his pedes, the former screeching curses at the mechling as he scampered away with her visor. How he had managed to take it off, Ambulon guessed he would never know.

Finally, he stood and left the room in annoyance, servos crossed and spinal strut hunched wearily. It was only one cycle after Iacon was bombed, and several smaller towns had already been evacuated. What was worse, the Elite Guard hadn't done _anything _about it! The Wreckers had all but gone to Pit with the termination of Supercharge, as well as a few other newer members.

But hope had sparked in the emerge of a young mech known as Sentinel Zeta, or Zeta for short. At his side was an archivist called A3, who seemed to be a councilor of sorts to the other mech.

Plopping onto his berth, Ambulon put his elbows on his knees and rested his helm in his servos, optics closed in frustration. They hadn't found any more younglings in the wreckage, but Backbeat assured him that Ratchet and Flatline were still alive, as well as Pyro, which was the confirmation from Wheeljack.

He could only hope that this "Zeta" would prove to be a real thread of faith for the dying planet to grasp.

* * *

"Just a little farther, Star," pleaded Thundercracker, but his stubborn brother promptly sat down on his aft and crossed his servos in defiance.

"No."

"But Star-"

"I said '_no_', Thunder!"

Thundercracker sighed and rubbed his optics. There was barely any light in the crevice they were in, and it was beginning to make his optics ache. Eyrmia didn't seem bothered, but he could tell it was making the others cranky.

"Fine, then. You guys rest, alright? I'll keep going," he tried to compromise. Starscream nodded his helm, then fell backwards and was dozing within nanokliks. Riptide nodded and curled up beside the older Seekerlet, and was soon in power down.

"I'll help you," Eyrmia offered as she climbed up beside Thundercracker and began pushing on a piece of metal. Thundercracker nodded his thanks, then pushed on the metal, causing it to slide away. Bright starlight shone in, making Mia and TC squint. One-and-a-half cycles of being stuck in darkness is definitely _not _good for the optics.

Thundercracker carefully climbed out of the opening, wincing when he put weight on his injured strut. He dragged himself out and fell back on his aft, welcoming the relief from his pede. Mia climbed out right after him, smiling at their star and looking around.

No Quintessons were in sight, but there weren't any bots either, which TC found a little strange. Perhaps they were taking a rest break, or they hadn't made their way to this part of the building yet.

Suddenly Eyrmia ducked back into the hole, but quickly reemerged with Starscream and Riptide, who were blinking wearily, optics narrowed against the harsh light.

Eyrmia suddenly placed a digit to her mouth and perked her Lupin audials, optics glancing to and fro.

"I hear something," she finally whispered. "It sounds like construction. They must be removing the collapsed roof."

Thundercracker nodded, then struggled to his pedes and began to limp after Eyrmia, who was walking confidently in the direction of the sound. She slowly fell back, though, and helped to support him. Starscream walked on his other side, also helping, while Riptide walked next to Eyrmia, helm down in exhaustion.

Several times TC felt himself about to stagger, but Mia or Starscream always steadied him. Finally, he heard shouts of surprise as the bots saw them.

"Look!"

"Over there!"

"Are those younglings?"

"Find a medic, _now_!"

Everything faded to black as he finally collapsed, but he was caught by a pair of servos, which he guessed belong to a medic judging on how steady and large they were. Honestly, though, he didn't care. He just wanted to power down.

* * *

"Well?" Ambulon asked politely when Cogwheel emerged from the medical bay.

"Thundercracker should be just fine," the Arachnicon said confidently. She was one of the older, more experienced medics, but was kinder than a lot of her co-workers, especially her BondMate, Lifeline, and the CMO, Remedy.

On the sofa, the younglings had finally calmed down. Backbeat was curled up over the arm of the piece of furniture, with Wheeljack and Magnus on the other end. Wheeljack's pedes were propped up on Magnus' lap, but the older youngling had probably been in power down by the time Wheeljack had done it, or else he would have a fit. Eyrmia was curled into a ball on the ground, and Riptide sat on the sofa right above her, pedes hanging down over her strange audials, which flicked occasionally. Starscream was the only one still awake, and was sitting with his spinal strut to the wall, optics focused on the medical bay entrance.

Ambulon nodded.

"Thank you."

Carefully making his way to the sofa, he managed to wedge himself in between Riptide and Backbeat. Switching on the holodisplay, he watched as Sentinel Zeta made a speech.

"_You may have lost hope, Cybertron, but I have not! We have defeated these monstrosities before, and we will do so again! The Quintessons may have been created by the Primes, but we were created by Primus! We will _always _be superior to those cyber-organic beasts, because we have the one thing that they do not: a sense of unity! Now, Cybertron, _are you with me_?"_

A cheer of "yes!" rang from behind the cam, and Ambulon grinned a little. Maybe things would work out after all.

"Wreckers, prepare for battle! We are storming the Quintesson fortress!"

Roadblock's voice held a commanding air about it that Ambulon did not question. After Supercharge's termination, he had named _Roadblock_ of all bots the next leader. While at first, they had thought him just a bumbling klutz, he had quickly proved him wrong. Apparently, Roadblock _did _have leader potential, as Kup as so proudly stated. Although Ambulon had no doubt that his friend was a little jealous that he hadn't been chosen.

Suddenly Ambulon heard a bot enter the room. He looked up to see Commander Crossfire glaring at him.

"Sir," Ambulon began, but the mech held up a servo.

"Medic, are there any younglings here that are close to or the age of fifteen orns?" he asked. Ambulon widened his optics, realizing why Crossfire was asking.

"Uh, no…"

"Really? Because I believe that Ultra Magnus is nearly fifteen orns, as well as Thundercracker."

Ambulon looked at the floor sullenly.

"Yes, sir. You are correct."

Crossfire nodded. "I would appreciate if you would wake them and allow them to accompany you."

Ambulon looked up in surprise.

"But, sir, they have no combat training! They'll be killed!"

Crossfire glared at him and scowled.

"All those of age are being taken to battle because of the massive depletion of our forces," he asserted before turning on his heel and promptly leaving the room. Ambulon huffed, but walked over to Magnus and shook him awake, making sure to move Wheeljack's pedes first. Magnus looked up at him questioningly.

"You and Thundercracker have been called to battle," the Wreckers' medic said softly, causing Magnus to widen his optics considerably in surprise.

"Go wake Thundercracker, will you?" Ambulon asked before leaving the room.

* * *

Thundercracker yelped and dove to the side, the ground smoking where he had previously been standing. Magnus reached down and helped up, moving his helm from side to side frantically as blaster shots rang around them, grenades going every which way, and older mechs pushing the younglings aside as they rushed towards their enemies. They were incredibly lucky to still be functioning with minimal injuries, even with Thundercracker's wounded strut, which he was somehow able to put weight on now. They hadn't seen Perceptor or Ratchet, which wasn't necessarily a _good _thing.

"Bots of Cybertron, it is time to storm the fortress!"

Thundercracker rolled his optics. "As if we hadn't been doing that already?"

The younglings raced toward the entrance of the fort, where the older bots were already crowding in. Just as Magnus was about to enter, TC put a servo on his shoulder and pulled him back.

"TC-"

"We'll be killed if we go in there!" TC growled. "If we want to have _any _chance of survival we need to remain outside! If the battle was hard enough out here, there is _no doubt _that it will be three times as hard inside! Magnus, the _Quintesson Lords_ are in there!"

Magnus yanked his servo away and glared at Thundercracker accusingly.

"You're just worried you'll get killed! When it comes down to it, all street scraplets are like you! They only care for themselves, and not about others. Well, _Thundercracker_, I was raised to be responsible, and to work as a team! When you're down below Cybertron, mining the Transformium and other precious metals, there's all sorts of danger! If you can't work together with others, you might as well be traveling in the Underworld or the Manganese Mountains all alone, just fresh meat for Predacons or Scraplets to jump and devour! WIthout teamwork, you are _nothing_!" With that biting response, Magnus turned and sprinted into the fortress, leaving Thundercracker behind, wings flattened to his spinal strut in shame and anger, and optics downcast. Slowly, the Seeker turned, then leapt into the air and transformed into his brand new military aerial mode and started back to the Wreckers' hangar.

Magnus gritted his denta and clenched his servos into fists as he ventured deeper into the fortress, following the sound of marching pedes. Finally, he emerged into a huge room, where a Quintesson Lord and Sentinel Zeta were standing, staring optic to eye, snarls on their faces and helm/head raised threateningly.

_Looks like you were wrong, TC. It's just one "Lord", _Magnus thought to himself. But _one _Quintesson Lord was still deadly enough. Already, Magnus could see Cybertronian frames littered across the floor.

Zeta was the first to strike, but the Quint was ready for him. Extending a tentacle from it's armor, it tried to latch the appendage onto Zeta, but the bot blocked it and stabbed it with his blade. The enemies kept up the fight, but neither seemed to be winning. Magnus was getting impatient, and he could tell that Zeta was as well.

Then, Zeta got a hit. His blade hit the Quintesson directly in the torso, and it went flying backwards, chest smoking and what looked like a mixture of Energon and a thick green substance - which must have been its blood - streamed out of the wound. The Quint hissed and rolled out of the way of Zeta's next attack, then leapt to its feet and stuck the tentacle onto the bot's neck, then send a bolt of electricity through. Zeta yelled in pain and keel over, holding his helm while his optics flickered.

The Quintesson slowly circled Zeta, a smirk visible on its disgusting face. Just as the creature was about to strike the killing blow, and Magnus heard a yell and saw something leap onto it. It was…Roadblock?

The Wrecker growled and started to pummel the Quint with his servos, always getting right back up when he fell. He wiped his mouth and crashed his servos together. Suddenly, Kup and Ambulon stepped out of the crowd and stood beside their friend, glaring harshly at the monster who had invaded their planet.

Hissing and spitting, the Quintesson got into a fighting stance and gritted its teeth, snarling at the bots who had _dared _to attack! It leapt toward Kup, but he rolled out of the way. Together, the trio herded the Quintesson away from Zeta, who was nearly recovered.

Ambulon broke away and rushed to Zeta's side, leaning down beside him and helping him to his pedes. Zeta nodded to him in thanks, then called up his blade and rushed the Quint, who hadn't noticed him as he was focused on the Wreckers.

Roadblock and Kup locked gazes with Zeta, then nodded and retreated back with Ambulon. The Quintesson turned around to pursue them, but that was his fatal mistake. Zeta leapt and, with a strong battle cry, brought the deadly blade down onto the Quintesson's head, cutting it into two even pieces.

A moment of silence passed before Crossfire burst from the crowd and cheered. He was soon followed by Roadblock, Kup, and Ambulon, as well as the rest of the Wreckers. Eventually, the whole room had burst into cheers and yells. Magnus stared dumbfounded at the Quintesson. Had they actually…won?

Suddenly he felt someone wrap their servos around him, and he turned to see Kup smiling at him kindly. "Hey, bro," he whispered. Magnus smiled and buried his helm into his brother's torso.

"Great job out there, _bro_," he said playfully. Kup chuckled and rubbed his helm affectionately.

"C'mon, Mags. A3 has something to say to Zeta outside. Where's TC?"

Magnus bit his lip plating uncertainly. "He…went back to the hangar."

Kup patted Magnus' shoulder reassuringly, then herded him out of the entrance and into the starlight, where an even larger crowd had gathered around A3 and Sentinel Zeta. A3 placed a digit to his audial and began to speak.

"Bots of Cybertron, the Quintessons have been defeated thanks to the efforts of Sentinel Zeta and three incredibly brave Wreckers: Roadblock, Ambulon, and Kup. As such, I have a proposition to make. What do you say to making Sentinel Zeta into Sentinel Zeta _Prime_?" he asked, a small grin on his faceplate.

Magnus covered his audials when a huge cheer of approval came from the crowd, making Zeta laugh.

"I think they say 'yes', A3," he said warmly. A3 nodded, then turned back to the crowd. "Cybertron, please welcome Sentinel Zeta Prime!"

At first the bots were cheering "Sentinel Zeta Prime", but it was eventually shortened to "Sentinel Prime". That would be the name the Prime would use, although "Sentinel Zeta" was still the full designation.

The rest of the cycle was a blur to Magnus. They went back to the hangar, where he grudgingly exchanged apologies with Thundercracker. The rest of the safe house at Iacon was cleared, revealing several younglings that had been caught but were still alive, including Slipstream, Skywarp, Pyro, Ratchet, Flatline, Pharma, Wolfsbane, Perceptor, Sola, and many others.

When everyone was finally cleared to return home, Magnus and Kup immediately transformed and started back to Blaster City. Perceptor, Wheeljack, Wolfsbane, Pharma, and Pyro disappeared and decided to go to Crystal City, but the others had no doubt that they would probably be caught by the authorities sooner or later and dragged to an orphanage.

Thundercracker loudly stated that they were heading back to Kalis, but Ratchet stopped them.

"Hey, TC? Why don't you guys come to Vos with us?" he asked tentatively, gesturing to Backbeat and Flatline. Thundercracker looked at him in surprise, but a grin slowly spread on his faceplate and he leapt forward and embraced Ratchet.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" he laughed. Ratchet grinned painfully as Thundercracker squeezed his midsection uncomfortably.

"You're…welcome…" he gasped when the other Seeker finally let go.

"Ratchet, look!" squealed Backbeat. Ratchet turned around and gasped in surprise when he saw his creators walking forward. Flatline rushed up to their carrier and hugged her, causing her the laugh kindly. Ratchet carefully approached his sire, who grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Sire," Ratchet began after Haywire had broken the hug. "I met some friends who lived in Kalis. They are orphans and I invited them to come with us. Is that alright?" he asked. Haywire nodded.

"Of course, how many of them are there?"

"Four. Oh, and Backbeat!"

"Oh…Yeah, it's fine!" Haywire chuckled nervously. _Seven _younglings in his home? Oh boy. Ratchet smiled, then turned and ran back to TC, excitedly telling him the news.

* * *

**AN: Yay! ^^ The Quintesson War is officially over. Next is the Golden Age. ****See you next time! ^^**


	16. Lay it All On the Line

**AN: Hello! We finally made it to the Golden Age, yay! On with the storytelling! Also, I would like to explain the way my time works. There are fifty breems in one cycle, and there are one-hundred kliks in a breem. If it was the beginning of the cycle, the time would read "00:00". At the end of the cycle, just before the new one, it would read "49.99". At "50:00" it would be the same as "00:00". This chapter's title comes from "Big Time Rush" by Big Time Rush.**

**Glossary: **Beat Blaster = Cybertronian instrument (can make nearly any sound, repeat sounds, record, amplify, etc.); Klik = Cybertronian Minute; Breem = Cybertronian Hour; Cycle = Cybertronian Day

**Warnings: **Cybertronian cursing. Nothing too bad. Unless you cringe at the idea of bots getting hit with wrenches. If so, you may want to skip this chapter.

**Notes: **Five breems may sound like five hours and sound really long, but we only have twenty-four hours. They have fifty. My idea of a Cybertronian lockpick would be a keycard that had a whole bunch of activation codes programmed into it that it could test and eventually find a match. The date system has also reset, but this is a few orns after the War.

* * *

**003.08.09**

Things weren't exactly perfect after the war. There was the occasional lone Quintesson found in a back alleyway or something, but everything seemed to be going pretty well.

Sentinel Prime's first act as Prime was to shut down all the Academies and open one big boarding school in Iacon where nearly all castes would be welcomed (the low castes were not admitted into the school). Traces of the War remained though, as all younglings were required to take one "battle class", which was sparring or self defense. He had also decided to bring the Guilds to the Academy for "aspiring soldiers": Elite Guard, Enforcers, etc. There were also peaceful guilds, though, like the Science Division and Artisans Guild. Many younglings placed in the artistic caste, specifically musicians, either joined or started their own bands as well, and one of these younglings was Backbeat.

The seventeen-orn old femme was well on her way to becoming a superstar, something she took pride in. Together with some other younglings she met the orn before named Soundtrack and Beatbox, she had formed a successful group that a lot of the others at the Academy seemed to enjoy. She even tutored younger bots, including Riptide and Eyrmia, as well as another mechling named Rimshot.

The three had quickly become fast friends. While Eyrmia and Riptide enjoyed playing Beat Blasters and singing, Rimshot mainly stuck to his custom Beat Blaster (even though Mia had shyly confessed to him that he had a - and I quote - "pretty great vocalizer" once).

Riptide had also taken up art from a visual angle, and had begun work on sculptures and drawings alongside Eyrmia. The two were best friends despite the large difference in their personalities.

Something that boggled Eyrmia's mind, though, was the fact that nearly no one seemed to remember her Lupin lineage. Of course, Wheeljack, Magnus, and Backbeat hadn't glanced at her once during the War, and Riptide and Starscream had been much too young, but what about Thundercracker? He seemed to have completely forgotten, as well as Ambulon, who she didn't see much anyway as he wasn't an instructor.

Don't get it wrong, Mia was completely happy that the others didn't remember. Her carrier, Wildfire, was an engineer in Praxus, and was a completely normal Seeker. Her sire was a Lupin whom she had never met. Unfortunately, Lupin, Felida, and other "beasts" were greatly looked down upon. She had no doubt that she would be sent to Kaon or Slaughter City if she was ever found out, so Wildfire had created a device for her.

All Mia had to do was clip it to her servo and it was cast a hologram that made her Lupin audials and tail "disappear". Most thought of the device as a piece of jewelry. To further dissipate suspicion, Mia had installed a second pair of audials that were designed like headphones, that way others wouldn't question her apparent lack of audials. Mia was taking some of the artistic classes: design, architecture, music, and writing, as well as joining the Wreckers.

Thundercracker and his siblings were doing fine as well. Thundercracker was now eighteen orns old, and Skywarp was seventeen. Thundercracker was a medic, along with Ratchet and Pharma, and Skywarp had joined the Wreckers with Wheeljack. Slipstream, who was fifteen, had begun training with the Elite Guard. Starscream had joined the Science Division. He was twelve.

Since the Academy was a boarding school, everyone had a dorm that they shared with another. There were mechs' dorms and femmes' dorms. Ratchet and Thundercracker shared, as well as Flatline and Pyro. Wheeljack and Skywarp, Pharma and Perceptor, Backbeat and Eyrmia, and Slipstream and Wolfsbane were also all paired up. Starscream was by himself though, which Thundercracker didn't think he minded at all.

There were eight sessions in one cycle, as well as the power down/up and refueling times. They had about three breems of free time before first session started, which was when some got extra Energon, studied, chatted, or slept in. First Session started at 10:05 and was their main class, which lasted for five breems. Thundercracker and Ratchet's first session was Medical Science, but Wheeljack and Perceptor's was Engineering.

Second Session was History, which started at 15:10 and went for four breems. Math was right after, going from 19:15 until 23:15. Fourth Session was driving/aerial practice for everyone, and that lasted for five breems, but it usually included some sort of game, so it wasn't all bad.

After Fourth Session was refueling time for two breems, then Fifth Session was Physical Education for four breems, which _always _had some kind of game, whether it was Paintball or Capture the Flag, or Capture the Flag Paintball. Sixth Session was saved for self defense and sparring classes for two breems, depending what caste you were in and what guilds you had joined. Most scientists and artists were in the self defense class, while Wreckers and other military students were in the sparring class.

Seventh Session was the time for guilds and extra classes for four breems, and Eighth Session was study time, extra classes time, practice, tutoring, free time, etc. for ten breems, but most younglings went into power down before the time was up anyway. Official lights out power down time was 50:00/00:00.

Ratchet scanned over his schedule and sighed. "Looks boring."

"Aww, don't judge a Data Pad by its cover, Ratch'," Thundercracker joked. "Look, we have the same classes."

"That's why it's boring."

"Shut up."

Ratchet grinned, then glanced at the schedule again. "First Session: Medical Science with…Lifeline. Pit," he groaned. Lifeline was one of the oldest mechs out there, and was known for his grumpiness and accuracy with medical tools, specifically wrenches. Many new additions to the Academy heard horror tales from medical students who had failed to abide by Lifeline's rules, and as such had received painful wrench shaped dents to the helm.

"Aww, I was hoping we would get Ambulon or Cogwheel! Even _Remedy _would be better than _him_!" Thundercracker whined, but he finally subspaced his Data Pad and started down the hallway. Consulting his inner clock told him it was 10:00. They had five kliks.

They made it into the room just in time, as Lifeline was beginning to call roll. They quickly sat down next to Pharma.

"Ratchet."

"Here."

"Red Alert."

"Here, sir."

"Thundercracker."

"Present and accounted for!"

Lifeline lowered his Data Pad and looked Thundercracker in the optic, a disapproving glare on his faceplate. "I do not appreciate _jokes_, sir," he growled, before setting his Data Pad down and nodding at the class.

"Now, this is a brand new orn and I plan to make it memorable. But first, we will be going over some guidelines. One: there is to be _no _snacking during class. That means if you got an extra Energon ration before class, you had better save it, Firestar!" he snarled as he growled at the orange femme, who looked up at him with guilty optics. She smiled, then hastily stood and threw the empty cube in the disposal unit.

"Continuing on. Two: There is to be no backtalk, sarcasm, jokes, pranks, sass, roughhousing, tomfoolery, shenanigans, gags, antics, buffoonery, mischief, wisecracking, stunts, tricks, puns, quirks, clowning around, mockery…"

Ratchet rolled his optics as he realized that the mech was listing off synonyms for the first four terms, and he slumped over, putting his helm on his servos and frowning. He started to feel his optic shutters drooping when-

"Three: No recharging in class!" Lifeline snarled, before bringing his wrench down painfully on Ratchet's helm. The offender immediately snapped to attention and looked up at his instructor sheepishly, rubbing the new dent in his helm.

"Yes, sir," he said, properly chastised. Lifeline nodded in approval. About four more rules followed, but Ratchet didn't really pay attention. It was basically the same rules every instructor has: follow the rules, do your work, pay attention, etc.

When the class was finally over, Ratchet and Thundercracker were the first out of the room. They squeezed out the door and raced into the hallway, relieved to have escaped.

"Talk about the spawn of Unicron," Thundercracker gasped, rubbing his servo where Lifeline's wrench had thwacked him.

"Don't they have a rule against abuse?" Ratchet groaned.

"Not if you can fix it," a femme's voice spoke up. Ratchet and Thundercracker turned to face Red Alert and Firestar, the former of which who was glaring at them in disapproval. Ratchet frowned, but Red Alert merely smirked.

"Seriously, powering down on the first cycle? Even Antivirus isn't _that _dumb!" she snarked. Thundercracker growled, and Ratchet crossed his servos and flared his armor a little bit in anger.

"Are you telling me you _didn't _get a teensy bit bored by his long lecture on the importance of circuits?" Thundercracker mock gasped. Red Alert shook her helm.

"Sure, I got bored, but I know that it is important to learn, so I force myself to remember it," she said.

"Gee, that must be _so much fun_ for you," Thundercracker said sarcastically, narrowing his optics. Red Alert shrugged, then walked away.

"By the way," she called over her shoulder, "you left your schedule in his room. My older sister told me what he does when he finds lost things: he keeps them for himself and uses them for wrench-throwing target practice!"

Thundercracker yelped and sprinted back in the room, causing Ratchet to smirk. Red Alert was an aft, but she could be funny when she wanted to. A sudden tap on his servo caused him to look to the side, where Firestar was looking at him apologetically.

"Um, sorry about Red. She's just a little cranky right now," she said quietly. Ratchet nodded, appreciating the apology but not really believing that Red Alert was just grouchy at the moment. Firestar smiled, then turned and followed her friend down the hallway.

"Hurry up, TC!" Ratchet called. "We've only got two kliks!"

"I'm coming, don't blow a gasket!" Thundercracker shouted back. Not long after, the ring of metal on metal floated out the door. Apparently another of Lifeline's rules was "no yelling in class".

Most of the cycle was pretty boring. They did nothing in Physical Education that day except talk about rules, which was pretty much what they did in all their other classes and at the Science Division intro.

Their freetime was spent studying notes and finishing homework over circuitry for Lifeline, filling out questions about the Primes for History class, solving long equations for Math class, going over barrel rolls for Aerial Practice, and answering questions about themselves for the Science Division, as well as trying to focus with all of the chatter in the common room, where Wheeljack was talking especially loudly to Magnus and Backbeat.

Miners such as Magnus were a low caste, but his older brother, Kup, was considered a war hero, guaranteeing the mechling from Blaster City a spot in the Academy.

Most of their cycles went this way, but one cycle Thundercracker devised a "genius" plan.

"Hey, Ratch?"

"Hmm?"

"Ya know how Lifeline is always throwing wrenches at bots?"

"How could I _not_?"

"I say we get him back."

Ratchet dropped his stylus and switched off his Data Pad calmly, then swiveled his seat to face Thundercracker. "Excuse me, _what did you say_?"

"We need to play a prank on Lifeline. You know, steal his wrenches or hit him with one, or something," Thundercracker said. Ratchet gaped at him, optics wide with disbelief.

"_What_?" he shouted, causing a few nearby mechs and femmes to look at them in annoyance. Ratchet grinned sheepishly, then turned back to Thundercracker. "Are you _insane_? You know what he'll do if he finds out it was us?"

"Ah, but that is the catch," Thundercracker interrupted, holding up a digit and smirking. "We'll blame it on someone else, someone who _fully _deserves his wrath. The one who did not get in trouble _once_ during the whole session."

Ratchet grabbed his friend's shoulders and looked him in the optics. "TC, I would not wish Lifeline's wrath upon _anyone_, even Red Alert, unless," he said, suddenly smirking, "it was another instructor. Perhaps another instructor such as Crossfire or Kup," he said suggestively. Thundercracker grinned wickedly.

"Oh yeah. Get Jackie and let's get this plan in motion!" he shouted.

"We don't have a plan."

"Right…"

* * *

"Alright, so Wheeljack will finish building the machine and we'll put it in the duplication device to make about ten more. After that, we'll sneak them into Lifeline's classroom while he's refueling and load them up. Hide the RC cam and start recording."

"You forgot the best part!"

"Oh, right. I'll lay a trail of wrenches all the way to Crossfire's quarters. Lifeline leaves his medical override card on the desk, so I'll swipe it on my way out and use it to get in, where we'll place a pile on his chassis. When Lifeline finds him he'll blow a gasket!"

Firestar grinned and clapped her servos together excitedly. "Alright, so let's get this party started!"

Wheeljack grinned, then mock saluted Ratchet. "Alright, general, I will get to work immediately," he laughed, before leaving the large storage room they had set up as a temporary base.

It had taken a few cycles to plan. They had to find out all their info, give Wheeljack time to begin his project, etc. But in the end, they knew it would be worth it.

Firestar hadn't been part of the original plan, but she had overheard them talking and had demanded to join in, so the mechs had grudgingly allowed her to participate. It was currently 40:50. They had seventy kliks.

About twenty kliks later, Wheeljack reemerged into the room pushing a cart full of small devices. They were in a simple disc shape with a visor and large claw coming off the side. Their purpose was to throw objects, specifically at moving targets. Ratchet just hoped they wouldn't backfire like a lot of Wheeljack's inventions had in the past. The mechling had potential, just perhaps not in the field of helpful tech.

"Behold, the…" Wheeljack trailed off and put a servo to his chin thoughtfully. He hadn't quite come up with a name yet. Ratchet rolled his optics.

"It's fine, Wheeljack. We don't need a name. Lifeline will probably demolish them anyway," he said with a chuckle. Wheeljack smirked.

"Oh don't worry, they have a defense mechanism," he said with a wink, causing Firestar and Thundercracker to burst out laughing. Ratchet snickered knowingly. He would enjoy that part. Lifeline wouldn't know what hit him.

Stealthily, the younglings snuck down the hall. A little investigation had shown that there were no security cams, which was odd for a building in Iacon. Ratchet guessed they hadn't been installed yet.

Lifeline went out every other day for a late Energon ration, but left his door locked. Luckily, Wheeljack was experienced with a lockpick. You learned a few things from orns on the streets.

Once the door was open, Ratchet, Thundercracker, and Firestar snuck in and began setting up the drones, as well as the remote-controlled cam. Firestar ran over to a short door in the back of the room and yanked it open, revealing a storage closet. A little rummaging and she had found a crate full of wrenches. She brought it out and dropped it on the ground, spilling wrenches all over the floor.

After loading all the drones with wrenches, Ratchet grabbed the still half-full crate and Lifeline's keycard off his desk and carried it out of the room. He and Wheeljack began to lay a trail all the way to Crossfire, the Physical Education instructor's, quarters. They scanned the keycard, then took the rest of the wrenches and placed them in a ring around the slumbering Crossfire. When they had all escaped back to the storage room after replacing the keycard, Ratchet sighed in relief. They were incredibly lucky that most instructors were either in their classrooms or in shut down, and that Crossfire was a heavy recharger.

Wheeljack flipped a switch and the room went dark, save for the holodisplay that still shone. Ratchet placed his servos on the keys and pressed one experimentally, causing the display on the screen to shift. The RC cam was performing perfectly.

About five kliks later, Lifeline entered the darkened classroom. He flicked the switch and froze in his tracks, staring at the fifteen or so drones the floated in front of him, wrenches in servo. Ratchet grinned and pressed another button.

1…2…3!

Lifeline shouted as fifteen wrenches hit him smack on the helm. The drones equipped more wrenches and threw more, chucking tools until they were out. Lifeline snarled and grabbed a wrench, then began smashing the devices. Just as he was about to destroy the last one, though, it reached forward and grabbed Lifeline's servo, squeezing it so hard he dropped the wrench. Then, it pulled his servo up and began to smack him on the helm, reciting a pre-recorded message in a monotone:

"Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?"

Thundercracker and Firestar howled with laughter and fell back out of their seats, clutching their abdomens and glitching out their voiceboxes. Wheeljack chuckled, then fist-bumped Ratchet triumphantly, who was also failing to contain his snickers.

Finally, Lifeline bellowed and punched the drone with his free servo square in the visor, shutting it off immediately. Ratchet swore he could even see the medic's optics flash red for a nanoklik. Suddenly Lifeline looked toward the door curiously, and started to tentatively approach the opening. Ratchet swiveled the camera and grinned devilishly when he realized that Lifeline had seen the wrench trail.

Following the seething mech with the cam, Ratchet struggled to smother his giggles. Finally, Lifeline reached the door to Crossfire's quarters, where Ratchet had wedged a wrench in the door to keep it open. Slowly, the old medic opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it wide open behind him. Ratchet zoomed the cam in closer.

Lifeline raised his wrench above his helm, then brought it down with a thundering _crash! _onto Crossfire repeatedly, screaming bloody murder the whole time. Ratchet recorded the scene for a few more kliks, then saved the recording and flew the cam back to the Engineering room.

"I can't believe he was actually fooled by that!" Thundercracker said wonderously. Wheeljack shook his helm.

"Nah. He'll be checking in with the other instructors. Those drones had to come from somewhere, right? You just better hope your acting skills are better than his detective abilities."

Ratchet nodded in agreement. The real test was yet to come.

"Plus, Crossfire's gonna grill us hard during Physical Education. And I would _not _want to be the one that he discovered had set him up. His wrath may not be as frightening as Lifeline's, but I can bet you it's pretty slaggin' close," Wheeljack finished. Ratchet nodded again, followed by Thundercracker and Firestar. Carefully, they took down their equipment and headed toward their dorms. Ratchet handed the Data Pad with the recording to Wheeljack.

"Give this to Percy and tell him to broadcast it on all the holodisplays and Data Pads, alright?"

"You got it, Doc."

"Don't call me that."

"Sure thing, Sunshine."

"Slagger."

"Fragger."

"Glitch."

And the banter continued up until they reached their dorms and entered, eventually climbing into their berths.

* * *

**AN: Ouch! I feel kinda sorry for Lifeline…not. Anyways, see the connection? Lifeline is Ambulon's mentor, and Ambulon is Ratchet and Thundercracker's mentor. Ratchet is First Aid's mentor…Oh no! Aid will be corrupted! *screams* XD I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**I watched Stronger, Faster earlier and I also heard that on the commentary the producers and Jeffrey Combs had said that Ratchet on synth-En is supposed to be what he was like in his youth, AKA teens and early adulthood. Scary…O.O Cocky, smart-alecky, and studly (in Bulkhead's words). We are doomed! XD**

**So how did I do on the humor? It's a new experience for me, and I hope it turned out okay. ^^**

**The next episode will feature Back****beat performing some songs…which I cannot come up with! I don't have any ideas - should I do rock? Pop? What should it be about? *holds head worriedly* Thinkthinkthinkthink! If you have any suggestions, feel free to say so. ^^**

**Until next time!**


	17. Light Up the Lot

**AN: Hey there! Next chapter is ready. I made music! Woohoo! This chapter features two original songs by me. The title for this chapter comes from the song "Rock What You Got" by Superchick.**

**Glossary: **Klep = about a meter

**Warnings: **n/a

**Notes: **Not all of the bots who are in that particular Physical Education class are playing. They are separated by age groups so that the older bots don't have an unfair advantage. A flag-runner is the bot who tries to get the flag. When someone gets punched or something while wearing the code net, it doesn't hurt as bad. The pain is muffled and the net protects them from the damage while logging it and depleting the health bar. It doesn't protect against real weapons, but they are using holographic weapons. The songs in this story are written by me and may not be used without my permission.

* * *

**003.08.10**

The cycle after the incident was extremely interesting for the bots involved. Wheeljack had given Perceptor the recording and the tech-savvy mech had uploaded to nearly all the consoles in the Academy, causing a riot.

Unfortunately, Physical Education was nightmare. Crossfire was covered in wrench-shaped dents from helm to pede, and he was absolutely _seething_.

"Alright, I want answers! Confessions! _Now_! Remember, younglings," he snarled devilishly, "you will receive more mercy if you step forward now, than when _I _find out who did it."

Wheeljack cast a sideways glance at Ratchet, who was making a point to look straight ahead. Thundercracker shrugged at Wheeljack, then turned to face Crossfire. After some thought, he raised his servo politely.

"Yes, Thundercracker?"

"Sir, you look like you've seen better cycles."

"Is that _so_, Thundercracker?" Crossfire growled, walking up to the mechling and flaring his optics dangerously.

"It's a good look on you, sir," piped up Wheeljack, causing the Physical Education instructor to grunt and walk up to him.

"Thank you, Wheeljack. See me after class and we can discuss your punishment."

"Yes, sir."

Thundercracker turned and raised an optic ridge. Wheeljack just shrugged.

"What, you don't think I'm actually gonna show up, do you?"

Ratchet finally put his servo on his faceplate and groaned in frustration. "Some cycle that attitude is going to get you in trouble."

"Already has, Doc," Wheeljack shot back. Ratchet gritted his denta and rolled his optics in exasperation.

"Alright, this cycle we are playing Capture the Flag. Any objections? No? Good," Crossfire said. He examined the gathered class thoughtfully, then pointed at Ironhide and Ultra Magnus. "You two will be the team captains. Remember, each team must have at least one medic. Are there any questions?"

Riptide sheepishly raised his servo. Crossfire nodded to him. "Um, sir, some of us are new here and don't know how to play."

A look of understanding overcame Crossfire's faceplate and he nodded. "Ah, of course. How could I forget?"

"Maybe he's so old he's forgetting stuff. Who knows, perhaps he'll forget he teaches Physical Education one cycle," Wheeljack whispered in Thundercracker's audial. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he groaned when Crossfire handed him two detention tickets.

"Now, for those of you who are new here, I will explain how to play. As you know from our previous types of games, each of you is given a clinging code net and holographic weapons that communicate with the net. Whenever a weapon from the opposite team passes through the net, it judges how much damage it would have given you if it were real and subtracts that amount from your health bar, which is only visible to medics. In Capture the Flag, there is a flag outpost that is guarded by the team. All you have to do is combine the flags at one of the outposts. Simple, right?

"Each class of soldier gets their own special weapons. Medics get Energon Repair Rays that can refill their teammates' health bars, of course at a cost of ammo. They can also use these Rays to take down the enemy's health bar. Elite Guard soldiers receive Path Blasters, as well as basic blades. Wreckers receive Scrapmakers; snipers get Null Rays; scouts get Scatter Blasters. Everyone is also equipped with Neutron Assault Rifles and Energon Grenades.

"After your health bar is depleted all the way, you flick the switch on your servo and it will teleport you to the losers' area. Is everyone clear on the rules?"

There was a unanimous call of "yes" and Crossfire nodded. "Then begin picking your teams."

After all the teams had been chosen, this is what the lineup looked like:

Magnus: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Backbeat, Arcee, Red Alert, Perceptor, Moonracer, Flareup, Skywarp

Ironhide: Thundercracker, Chromia, Ariel, Beatbox, Soundtrack, Jazz, Firestar, Antivirus, Pharma

Ratchet glanced over at Thundercracker, who grinned and crashed his servos together. Pharma, who was standing beside him, rolled his optics and smirked. Ratchet shook his helm. They were going down.

Turning, the two teams went their separate ways to their flag outposts. When they arrived, Magnus walked to the front and surveyed his team, calculating a battle plan.

"Alright. Perceptor and Red Alert will remain here to guard the flag, but we will have backup in the air from Skywarp. Our flag-runners will be Moonracer, Arcee, and Backbeat. Ratchet, stay close to them in case they require repairs. The rest of you, we'll provide a distraction. Wheeljack, you're our backup flag-runner."

With that message everyone moved to change spots. Perceptor and Red Alert positioned themselves on either side of the flag, while Arcee, Moonracer, and Backbeat walked to the front and prepared to move out.

Suddenly the arena sprang to life in the form of holograms. It was an organic environment, complete with green-leafed trees and thick underbrush. The Seekers groaned; it was hard to fly in this environment!

"Move out!"

Arcee and Moonracer transformed and raced out, while Ratchet and Backbeat activated their speed enhancers and followed them.

Magnus, Wheeljack, and Flareup transformed and raced out, where they could already hear the other team crashing through the brush. Magnus rolled out of the forest and into a clearing, transforming and crashing into Ironhide.

Chromia, Beatbox, and Pharma met the other two head-on, and since they had the advantage of numbers they were overpowering Wheeljack and Flareup.

Suddenly Chromia broke away from the group, though, and followed the opposite team's flag-runners. Backbeat glanced over her shoulder and cursed.

"Chromia's on our tail!" she shouted.

"Understood!" Moonracer called back, speeding up. She could see the other team's flag!

Emerging from the undergrowth, she was immediately stopped by Soundtrack, who had heard her coming. Antivirus was right behind him, activating his Energon Repair Ray and zapped Moonracer, rapidly decreasing her health bar.

Suddenly Arcee and Backbeat crashed out of the trees and collided into Soundtrack and Antivirus, knocking them off their pedes and engaging them in a sparring match a few kleps away. Ratchet ran out of the forest a moment later and knelt down beside Moonracer, cycling up his own Energon Repair Ray and restoring her health bar.

"Racer, get the flag!" Backbeat shouted right before she knocked aside by Soundtrack. Moonracer nodded and leapt to her pedes, running toward the flag in determination.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. Antivirus shot his Ray and hit Moonracer smack in the center of her chassis, depleting her health bar down extremely fast. Soon enough, her health bar was gone and her code net fizzled out. She frowned, but finally flicked the switch on her servo and disappeared with a burst of static.

Ratchet gritted his denta and shot his Ray at Antivirus, but the other medic dodged and started to sprint toward him. Ratchet leapt into the air, though, right over the Grounder, and landed behind him. Turning, he activated his Ray and Neutron Assault Rifle simultaneously and shot at Antivirus, depleting his health bar and eventually making it disappear.

Antivirus frowned, but saluted Ratchet and flicked his switch, leaving the same way Moonracer had. Ratchet turned to see Arcee nearing the flag. Soundtrack was the only bot left now defending it. Kudos to Magnus and his team for keeping Ironhide occupied.

Arcee grabbed the flag and transformed before zooming back into the trees. Soundtrack growled and punched her one last time, depleting the health bar all the way. Backbeat shrugged and flipped her switch, yelling encouragement to Ratchet before disappearing.

Ratchet turned to face Soundtrack and smiled nervously before activating his speed enhancers and skating away, but the Racer was closing in on him. He finally leapt into the air and transformed into jet mode, weaving in and out of the tall trees while Soundtrack shot at him.

Finally, he found himself back at their outpost. Transforming and landing on the ground, he saw that Arcee hadn't quite reached their flag yet. Chromia and Ironhide blocked her way, while Beatbox took on Perceptor. Red Alert dashed over to Ratchet and skidded to a halt beside him.

"Arcee's never going to make it, not with those two blocking the way. They're unstoppable as a team!"

Ratchet nodded. Perceptor was driving Beatbox away, but he could see Soundtrack sneaking up from behind to snatch their flag. If he managed that the game would go on forever. He activated his speed enhancers and raced forward, smashing into Soundtrack and knocking him back.

Red Alert sprinted up to Arcee and held out her servo to the younger femme, who discreetly passed it to her while Chromia wasn't looking. Magnus had come out of the forest and was once again taking on Ironhide, so she was alone with her sister now.

Red Alert skirted around Chromia and grinned as she neared the outpost. Almost there! She jumped up and landed on the outpost, then jammed the other team's flag into the spot with her own. The holographic forest suddenly disappeared, and the bots whose health had been depleted sprinted out and cheered.

Arcee came up and high-fived Red Alert, and Moonracer and Backbeat patted her on the back.

"Still the best?"

She turned to face Ratchet, who was grinning at her expectantly. Shrugging, she looked at the floor.

"Look, Ratchet. I'm sorry about how…uptight I've been lately. It…wasn't right, I suppose," she mumbled. "You did good too. If it weren't for you Soundtrack would have gotten the flag."

Ratchet nodded, then bowed. "Thank you, ma'am."

Wheeljack cleared his vocalizer and waggled his optic ridges at Ratchet, who glared at him with a look that could have killed. Thundercracker snickered and Ratchet growled at him, then turned to Backbeat, who had approached.

"'Beat, the Wreckers are playing paintball tomorrow, right?" he asked carefully. Backbeat nodded. "Good. I need to borrow one of your cannons," he said with a grin. Thundercracker shrieked and backpedaled nervously, causing Wheeljack and Ratchet to burst into laughter.

"I'm joking, TC," Ratchet reassured, but the look in his optics said otherwise. Thundercracker crossed his servos and frowned, looking like a pouty sparkling who had been denied a rust stick.

"Great game, 'Beat!" Soundtrack and Beatbox called. Backbeat smiled and waved back at the brothers. "See you tonight! Don't forget to set up your Beat Blasters _before _rehearsal starts, by the way!"

Wheeljack glanced at her curiously. "What's goin' on tonight?"

"We have a concert! Riptide and Rimshot were supposed to broadcast it…" she sighed in exasperation. She dug out a Data Pad from her subspace and handed it to Wheeljack. "Here, just give it back once you log the time."

Backbeat's band, which was made up of herself, Beatbox, and Soundtrack, was called the "Soldiers of Sound", otherwise known as the "SOS". Thanks to Eyrmia, they always had the coolest advertisement images (in Backbeat's opinion) to broadcast on the holodisplays and Academy Data Pads.

Wheeljack scanned over the image, then gave the Data Pad back. "I'll be there."

"Of course you will! I wrote a song for the Wreckers," she said with a wink. Wheeljack grinned.

"Can't wait."

Ratchet and Thundercracker nodded, and Magnus shrugged and finally agreed. Firestar managed to drag Red Alert into it, while Perceptor and Pharma decided to come as well.

* * *

**003.08.10**

**- 45:20**

"Hello, Iacon Academy!" Backbeat spoke through her comm link, which was set up to amplify her voice to the crowd of bots who stood in front of the stage. A Beat Blaster was set up in front of her, as well as in front of Beatbox and Soundtrack.

"Are you ready for some tunes?" she asked, earning a cheer from the crowd. "Awesome! Alright, our first song will be a tribute to Seekers and Copters everywhere. Some of you may know it. Get ready for 'Close to the Sky', written by myself!"

With that Backbeat raised a digit to her audial and signaled to Soundtrack and Beatbox. A few measures in she began to sing.

"Oh, oh  
Oh, ah  
Oh, oh  
Oh, ah, ah, ah!

I feel so bad for those of you  
Who are stuck on the ground,  
I feel so bad for those of you  
Who aren't destined to be air bound

If only you could see  
What it's like  
To be free  
From all of your worries

Don't you know, oh, oh  
That when you're down below  
You can't see the beauty of  
The star's glow, oh, oh?

You only wish  
That you could be like us  
You only wish  
That you could be up high above

If only you could see  
What it's like  
To be free  
From all of your worries

Don't you know, oh, oh  
That when you're down below  
You can't see the beauty of  
The star's glow, oh, oh?

So come with me tonight  
As we shine in the starlight  
And come alive!

If only you could see  
What it's like  
To be free  
From all of your worries

Don't you know, oh, oh  
That when you're down below  
You can't see the beauty of  
The star's glow, oh, oh?

And when the star finally rises  
Above the horizon  
You will realize  
That what we have is priceless

So don't waste your opportunities  
Seize the chance and  
Fly so, oh, oh, high  
Up so close to the sky

Oh, oh  
Oh, ah  
Oh, oh  
Oh, ah, ah, ah…"

Backbeat trailed off and Soundtrack ended the song with a final gentle chord. When his Beat Blaster was finally silent, the crowd cheered. Backbeat bowed and smiled at them.

"Thank you, thank you! Now for you Grounders, don't feel bad! We may not have a song about driving," she giggled, "but we do have a song about the Wrecker! Prepare yourselves for 'Wreck and Rule'!" With a nod to Soundtrack, the next song began. Beatbox slowly set down his Beat Blaster and approached Backbeat, who gave him a nearly imperceptible nod before they both put their digits on their audials.

"This bond deep within us  
Runs straight through our Sparks  
And nothing can defeat us  
When we begin our sabotage

Wreck and rule!  
We are not an object of ridicule  
Wreck and rule!  
This is no place for fools

Our enemies will hesitate  
When they hear our mighty shout,  
They think they can't be eradicated  
But our determination will get us through any ugly bout

Wreck and rule!  
We are not an object of ridicule  
Wreck and rule!  
This is no place for fools

So now, as you stand quaking in your boots  
We give you one last chance  
To call back all your troops  
But be warned, if you do not heed our order  
We will be forced to show that we are indeed  
Stronger

Wreck and rule!  
We are not an object of ridicule  
Wreck and rule!  
This is no place for fools

Wreck and rule!  
Wreck and rule!  
Wreck and rule!"

Backbeat and Beatbox grinned as they bowed. The Wreckers were up at the front, raising their fists in approval and chest-bumping each other excitedly. Backbeat smiled, glad she could make her brothers and sisters so happy.

A few more songs were played before the show was over and they left the stage. As soon as she climbed down the stairs, though, Backbeat was pulled into an embrace.

"Jackie, let go!" she protested.

"That was awesome, 'Beat!" he said cheerfully.

"It'll be even more awesome if you let me go so I'll actually be able to perform it," she growled. Wheeljack rolled his optics, but eventually let her go and smirked at her.

"So, what's next? Elite Guard? Medics? Artists?"

"Nah. I need a break," sighed Backbeat as she stretched her servos up. "This has been a long cycle and I just need to power down."

Ratchet smiled at his cousin. The normally-chipper and cheerful femme wasn't tired easily, but when she _was _weary, she made sure to let _everyone _know.

"C'mon, 'Beat," called Eyrmia as she ran up, optics bright with excitement after the concert, "let's head back to the dorm before Riptide and Rimshot drive me crazy!" Backbeat chuckled and nodded, then herded the younger femme away.

"Speaking of recharge, I need some serious nap time," Thundercracker yawned. "Someone catch me." He fell backwards, right toward Ratchet and Wheeljack, who glanced at each other before stepping out of the way, making Thundercracker land on his spinal strut with a loud and painful crash.

"Not funny," he deadpanned as he stood up, grabbing the wall for support. Wheeljack merely snickered.

"Maybe not to you."

"I hate you."

"A lot do."

Thundercracker frowned. "I'm going back to my dorm. You coming, Ratchet?"

Ratchet shrugged. He might as well. It was getting late anyway. "Sure. Why not?"

* * *

In the femmes' dorm area, though, in dorm #77, Eyrmia was not in power down. No, she was wide awake. Scrolling through her Data Pad, she found the lyrics to a song she had been working on for quite some time. She clicked on it and it popped up, not even close to being finished. Sighing in defeat, she finally placed the device in her subspace and curled up, quickly falling into recharge.

* * *

**AN: Yay! I made songs! With the help of my friend, XxSoundwave6xX, I now have a whole bunch of poetry projects I'm working on. Be sure to check out ****A Little Cultural Spice**** to see all of my songs (just beware, some of them will have spoilers). I am still accepting song ideas though, so feel free to submit any. =]**

**Also, if you would like to use any of my poetry found on ****A Little Cultural Spice****, all you have to do is ask. Unfortunately some songs are either off limits or have special guidelines I would like you to follow, but I'm sure you'll be fine. I also take requests!**

**Until next time. ;)**


	18. Give It Your Best Shot

**AN: Hello! ^^ These chapters as well as Eyrmia's reference sheet are now up on my DeviantArt account (same username), so you can check them out if you want. This chapter was inspired by the song "Get Off My Back" by Bryan Adams.**

**Glossary: **n/a

**Warnings: **n/a

**Notes: **I didn't include Bulkhead, Springer, Seaspray, or Breakdown because in this story Bulkhead and Springer are brothers and are in the low castes, as well as Breakdown and Seaspray (not the brothers part, the low caste part).

* * *

**003.09.35**

Eyrmia frowned and tapped her stylus against her chin thoughtfully. She couldn't understand how Backbeat did it, coming up with lyrics and music so quickly! About a quartex had passed since the Capture the Flag game in Physical Education, and Eyrmia was getting impatient for another exciting team game.

Fortunately, that was exactly what they would be doing in the Wreckers that cycle. A little game called "Paintball" was scheduled for later, and Mia couldn't wait. She just hoped she could get through her other sessions first.

* * *

The cycle passed without incident for Eyrmia, so she was chipper and upbeat when she arrived in the Wreckers' room. Backbeat and Wheeljack were right behind her, as well as Magnus and Perceptor.

Kup looked around the classroom with a sly grin on his faceplate. "Alright, mechs…and femmes," he acknowledged with a smiles, "Who's ready for some Paintball?"

A cheer rose up from the class and Kup widened his smirk. "Good. We'll be going to the Training Room for this one. Same rules as always: no intentionally hurting anyone, no shooting in places that could actually damage someone, etc. Except this time, I will be picking the teams," he said. The class groaned, and he shrugged not-so-apologetically. "C'mon, let's move!"

They arrived at the Training Room and Kup placed everyone in a line. Everyone had made a point to show up, and not get a virus or something (like they usually did): Wheeljack, Backbeat, Magnus, Eyrmia, Pyro, Warpath, Perceptor, Skywarp, Impactor, Roadbuster, Whirl, Broadside, Sandstorm, and Chromia.

"Team leaders will be Impactor and Magnus. Impactor, you will have Pyro, Warpath, Whirl, Skywarp, Roadbuster, and Seaspray on your team. Magnus, you will have Wheeljack, Eyrmia, Perceptor, Backbeat, Broadside, and Sandstorm on your team," Kup instructed. Impactor crossed his servos in annoyance.

"That's not fair. Magnus has the only two bots with even a little bit more medical knowledge than the rest of us."

Kup and rolled his optics. "Fine. Perceptor and Pyro will switch."

Impactor nodded, then watched as they switched sides. Wheeljack frowned, but accepted the choice anyway.

Soon enough, everyone had grabbed a blaster filled with paint. Red for Impactor's team and blue for Magnus'.

"Alright, and…begin!"

Backbeat and Magnus rushed forward, barreling towards Perceptor. Getting the sniper out first would be key to victory.

Eyrmia and Pyro stood back to back and fired at all approaching bots, but Pyro got hit and finally went down, paint peppering his frame. Mia grinned, then dashed away, dodging paint bullets the whole time.

Broadside, Sandstorm, and Pyro from Magnus' team were soon eliminated, as well as Skywarp, Warpath, Roadbuster, and Seaspray from Impactor's team.

Backbeat frowned and stood next to Magnus, blaster raised defensively. Impactor and Perceptor stood opposite of them, optics searching for a weak link. Wheeljack and Eyrmia walked up and stood next to the other two, helms high and optics glittering with excitement.

Magnus yelled and rushed forward, breaking the staring contest. He began shooting at Impactor, who did the same. Perceptor turned to Wheeljack and begin firing, but the smaller mech easily dodged most of the shots while shooting his own.

Whirl turned and grinned at the two femmes who were left, who glared at him in determination.

"Bring it, physco!" Backbeat goaded, eliciting a murmur of "gladly" from Whirl as he leapt forward. At the end of the fight, Backbeat was covered in red paint, while Whirl was also covered in blue paint.

"I win!"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not down yet!"

"Now you are!" Whirl crowed as he shot paint right at Backbeat's torso, knocking her back with the force of it. She growled, but stood and walked over to the bench where the rest of the fallen had gone.

Eyrmia frowned. She would have been helping Backbeat, but she was out of paint. Whirl turned to her and smiled.

Scrap.

She dodged the first shot, but the second one hit her in the abdominal plating, making her keel over for a few nanokliks before righting herself and skating away.

Unfortunately, Whirl was pretty fast, and was right on her tail as she rolled away. Transformations weren't allowed, either, so she was pretty much slagged.

Whirl fired his last shot at Mia, who turned and blocked with her servo. The same servo that her cloaking device was mounted on.

The explosion blew both bots back, and the others who were left paused their battles to watch in surprise. Whirl sat up immediately, having been further from the device than Eyrmia. He shook his helm, then looked around him, trying to find the Seeker.

Eyrmia groaned as her optics onlined. She had only been out for about a klik, though. Looking at her servo and saw the device smoking and spitting static. Cautiously, she glanced down, where she saw a thick tail sprouting from the bottom of her spinal strut.

She was _so _fragged.

"Mia! Mia, where are you?" Kup called. She began to tremble as he ran over to her, keeping her helm down in shame.

"Mia, thank Primus you're o-" There was an abrupt silence as Kup took note of his student's condition. Two extra audials grew from her helm, as well as the tail coming from her spinal strut.

"Magnus, get some Enforcers in here," he said quietly. Magnus nodded before leaving the room. Kup turned to Mia, who was now looking up at him.

"I'm sorry," was all she said. Kup nodded, then stepped aside as two Enforcers entered the room and approached Mia, who pressed herself against the wall in fear, wings flattened to her back. One of the Enforcers grabbed her servo and hoisted her up, then walked with her out of the room. When she glanced over her shoulder, Mia saw Wheeljack, Skywarp, Perceptor, Backbeat, and Magnus staring at her. Wheeljack, Skywarp, Perceptor, and Magnus seemed to be surprised, but Backbeat looked hurt and a little but guilty.

"Get your things, youngling, and then we'll leave," commanded one of the Enforcers. Eyrmia scowled, but did as she was told.

Upon entering the dorm she and Backbeat shared, a pang of guilt hit her like a tidal wave, but she ignored it. Climbing into her berth, she gathered up her meager pile of things: Data Pad, stylus, Beat Blaster, and a list of the Soldiers of Sound's performances.

As she was ushered into the transportation vehicle, Eyrmia looked up at the Academy, it's pointed spires rising high in the sky. In the distance she could see Seekers from the Aerial Practice class dipping and diving, and she saw a cloud of dust rising a little further away, where the Driving Practice class was probably hosting a race.

She would miss the place, but she had known that she would be found out eventually. Her best option would be to remain optimistic. As long as she had her music, art, and writing, she was sure she would be fine.

She hoped.

* * *

**AN: Ouch. I went from 3600 words to 1300…I just had no muse for this chapter. =[ I rewrote it several times, but when I tried to make it longer it got scrappier and scrappier. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. ;)**


	19. Change the Whole World

**AN: Hello again! =] I'm here with the next chapter. This chapter is based off of "Superhero" by Simon Curtis. Look it up, I swear he wrote it for Transformers. XD**

**Glossary:** Clavicular Armor = Collarbone; Orn = Cybertronian Year; Vorn = Cybertronian Week; Klik = Cybertronian Minute; Nanoklik = Cybertronian Second; Breem = Cybretronian Hour

**Warnings: **There is some slaughter in here because of the gladiator matches.

**Notes: **Sola belongs to XxSoundwave6xX. Just to clarify, Sola and Mia are about fifteen orns old. Also, my theory is that Sola can fill a reserve up with a certain type of poison that will filter into her braid (which becomes her tail FYI). She can choose deadly, paralysis, illusional, etc.

* * *

**010.07.23**

About seven orns had passed since Eyrmia had been discovered, and it had been hard. That's not to say it had been boring, though. No, it had been strangely entertaining.

She had been taken to Slaughter City, which was obviously a gladiators' city. It was there that she had met a full-blooded modern Predacon named Sola, who was also a gladiator.

The two had paired up, and they made a pretty good team, too! With Sola's experience with fighting in the ring, along with Eyrmia's knowledge and expertise in sophisticated ways of sparring, as well as both of their Felida and Lupin modes (respectively), they were deadly opponents. They had quickly proved their mettle in the ring.

"Mia!"

Eyrmia turned to see Sola rushing in with a big grin on her faceplate. Despite being a gladiator and facing death every cycle, Sola always seemed to be cheerful and playful, as if she was still a sparkling. Mia smiled.

"What is it, sis?"

Just to clarify, the two weren't _actually _sisters, but they were so close they referred to each other as such.

"I just spoke with one of the hosts of this match, and he said that if we win, we'll get to go to Kaon. Think of it, Mia, it's the big place! All the big matches and glory are up there!"

Mia sighed. She didn't exactly care about all the glory, but if Sola was happy, she was too. Suddenly a whistle blew outside in the ring, and Sola excitedly grabbed Mia's servo and began to run toward their spot for the match.

Before it began, they would be in a holding pen of sorts, which was filled with weapons, defense mechanisms, etc. Sola always chose a large scythe, looking at it admiringly. But Mia picked a bow and arrow. It was a little better made than the other weapons, and had obviously been stolen from someone in the high castes. Reaching into the box, she also pulled out a pair of twin daggers, a photon burst rifle, and a neutron assault rifle.

She scanned the rifles, then clicked a switch on the bow, making it shorten itself so it was folded into the grip. Opening a compartment on her servo, she fastened the bow in. The top part of it stuck out, making it easier to grab quickly. Then she turned to the daggers. She took each end, where the grip was, and clicked them together, turning the two daggers into one double-sided dagger. Flicking another switch, the dagger folded into itself and latched the grips together, becoming slightly longer than the folded bow was. She took this and dropped it into the compartment on her other servo.

"Ready, Mia?"

"As I'll ever be."

Sola grinned, then the femmes clasped their servos together and raised them in the air, yelling their "before-match battle cry".

"Let's go."

* * *

"I'm gonna squash you like the insects you are!" growled their opponent, an enourmous mech who didn't look too intelligent. He was armed with two spiked maces, plus a huge cannon on his back. It was obvious that he transformed into a tank.

Sola gritted her denta and raised her scythe, then reached to her waist and grabbed a whip she had taken from the weapons box. She cracked it at the Tanker experimentally.

"I'm not an Insecticon, slagmuncher," she growled, "I'm a Felida, and proud of it, too!"

With a roar, she flung herself toward the mech, swiping the scythe toward his helm. Unfortunately, he ducked, then came up and hit her in the torso with one of his maces, knocking her back. Eyrmia snarled, bringing out her daggers and unfolding and unlatching them until she held two daggers.

The arena itself was quite large, and that was including the ceiling. Flying was allowed in this arena (although some did prohibit it), which would give both her and Sola a huge advantage over the grounded bot.

Mia activated the thrusters on her wheeled pedes and rose into the air, smirking at the mech when he bared his denta in frustration.

"Think fast!" she yelled, right before chucking both of the daggers at the mech. He stumbled backward, but they both his him on his clavicular armor, on either side of his helm.

By now, Sola had recovered and was ready to eliminate the Tanker. She transformed into her Felida mode, her wings sprouting up and spreading threateningly. Mia landed and transformed into her Lupin mode as well, growling at the mech.

"You don't scare me!" he shouted defiantly, but Mia could see a glint of fear in his optics.

Sola rushed forward and leapt onto him, latching onto his servo and refusing to let go, even when he shook it repeatedly, trying to get her off.

_::I'm gonna try something, Mia, okay?:: _she said through the comm. Mia glanced at her uncertainly, but nodded. Sola spread her wings, then brought them down, struggling to keep her hold on the massive mech's servo. With a few more beats she had made it off the ground. The mech looked below him and gritted his denta. This wasn't how it was supposed to go!

_::Now jump and grab his pede, or something, and don't let go!:: _Sola yelled to Mia, who nodded again and leapt up onto the Tanker. She jumped high enough to grab his hip plating, and locked her jaws around a part of his armor that was sticking out.

_::Transform and use those knives of yours to finish him off. I can't hold him for much longer!::_

Mia transformed and brought out her daggers. She crept up towards the mech's chassis and he began to struggle more, but the Lupin hybrid put a digit to his mouth and narrowed her optics, before stabbing her blade into his chassis, ripping apart metal and burying it deep in his Spark.

The Tanker howled as she removed the blade, right before Sola finally let go of him. He fell into a heap on the ground, and Mia knew that he was dead.

Sola landed gently and transformed, and Mia put the dagger back in its place on her servo. The crowd was cheering, chanting their names with excitement.

"Mia! Mia! Sola! Sola!"

Sola basked in the glory, her servos high above her helm and her mouth pulled into a slight grin. Mia, on the other servo, was a little less of a "glory-hog".

"Sola," she began, tapping her friend's shoulder, but the Felida either didn't hear her or ignored her. Mia rolled her optics, but accepted the femme's defiance.

The hosts of the match were clearing up the crowd and ushering everyone out, but one of them approached the winners of the match, smiling widely.

"Sola, Mia, I'm so glad to see you've made it!" he laughed. Sola nodded.

"We are too, sir."

"I'm here to discuss your transfer to Kaon. What do you say? I must tell you, it's going to be hard, that's where the champions live-"

"We'll do it," Mia butted in. Sola nodded and winked at the mech. "You betcha!"

"Alright," the host said. "I'll tell my higher-ups of your acceptance immediately. Gather any weapons you may want, 'cause you don't know what they have up there. I'll see you next cycle, alright?"

The femmes nodded, before turning and walking back to their temporary living quarters.

"Just picture it," Sola said, "standing in the ring, watchers raining down their praise on you, as you stand over a…Pit. I don't even know what we'll face," she said in frustration. Mia rolled her optics and laughed.

"I don't either. It'll be a surprise."

* * *

Kaon wasn't exactly the most beautiful place on Cybertron, but Mia was sure it was the dirtiest. Trash littered the streets, and she didn't dare to look down the alleys in fear that something would be waiting. It was no secret that many gangs enjoyed capturing helpless bots and holding them for ransom, whether it was for credits, tech, or weapons.

Mia was sure that the colosseum they had arrived at was the nicest place in the city, and she was probably right. When they entered, their escort pointed out where everything was in a very bored fashion, before finally leaving them alone to tend to others.

Down the right hallway was where those who were watching the matches would go, while the left hallway was reserved for the gladiators. It was probably no mistake that the gladiators' hall was smelly and looked worn down, while the right hallway looked brand new.

As they walked down the hall, Mia took in all the rooms with awe. Sure, it was run-down and kind of gross, but it was amazing all the same to her young processor. When they entered their quarters, Sola sighed and plopped down on her berth, shutting her optics and just relaxing for a moment.

Eyrmia smiled, then playfully swiped at Sola's audials before going to her berth and sitting down. She didn't bother to fix anything up, as she knew that there was a high chance they wouldn't be staying there long.

* * *

**011.07.23**

"Can you believe it, Mia?" Sola asked in amazement.

"Believe what?" Eyrmia asked wearily. It had been a long cycle full of fighting, and she was ready to go into power down.

"We've been here exactly one orn, now! Last orn on 010.07.23 we arrived here and fought our first battle in Kaon. Isn't it cool?"

Mia rolled her optics, but grinned anyway and nodded. "Yep."

"And tomorrow we face the best gladiators: Soundwave and Megatronus!" Sola in awe. It wouldn't be a fight to the death, but Mia had seen recordings of the gladiators' fights and knew that their brutality was matched by no one. They would be lucky to make it out with minimal injuries.

Megatronus had quickly risen to the top of the ranks in Kaon, while Soundwave had been in second place. Soundwave seemed to be the only one who even had a chance at beating the larger mech. After a no-kill battle in which neither came out victorious, Megatronus had approached Soundwave and asked him to join a team with him. Combined, they were rumored to be the most deadly pair in the whole gladiatorial circuit.

"We'll probably lose," she stated. Sola immediately simmered down and nodded solemnly, but had soon perked up again and was excitedly rummaging in her subspace, probably trying to find her Data Pad.

Mia slowly drew out her own Data Pad and looked at it. She had scrapped the song she had written so many orns ago and had begun a new one, which was admittedly easier to write and frankly, she liked it a lot more.

_You know what it's like to be beaten down,  
Pushed around, like you're nothing?  
You know what it's like to have no say,  
To have your life already planned out,  
Every step of the way?_

_"Well," I say, "No more!"  
The time for change is upon us,  
So sing with me!_

_All I want is to be unique,  
All I want is to do something great,  
I just wanna be distinct,  
I just wanna change the world!_

_For every enemy that I defeat,  
For every stranger that I meet-_

Eyrmia sighed. This was where she always got stuck. She tapped her stylus on her helm and chewed on her lip plating in frustration, and she felt as if she could hear the cogs in her processor turning, round and round, then getting stuck when she lost her inspiration.

With a groan of exasperation she put away the Data Pad and fell back on her berth. She would need plenty of rest for the next cycle.

* * *

**011.07.24**

"And now we have the Kaonian gladiators Megatronus and Soundwave against the team that transferred here an orn ago from Slaughter City. Please welcome Sola and Eyrmia, the modern Predacons!"

The crowd cheered as Sola and Mia strode out into the ring. Mia's full faceplate mask was equipped, and Sola's metal braid waved threateningly. She had been getting better at maneuvering it lately and had even discovered it had the ability to inject poison into a victim, which would certainly be helpful.

Across the ring, Megatronus and Soundwave were eyeing their opponents, noting their weaknesses, strengths, mannerisms, etc. Soundwave's narrowed yellow optics flicked from bot to bot. The second one, the one that he had been told was a purebred Felida, seemed familiar somehow, but why?

Megatronus observed the femmes. This would be easy. They looked weak, and had to be at least eight orns younger than he was. This would take no time at all. But the Predacon factor could change the game a little. He would just have to see.

Sola was the first to attack, as always. She leapt forward and pulled out her whip, cracking it at Soundwave, who jerked back and extended tentacles from slots on his side plating. Sola frowned and her braid began to wave menacingly before extending a little longer to have better range. This would be interesting.

Mia also seemed to be holding her own against Megatronus, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to last forever. Strength usually wins over speed. It was time to convert to her Predacon instincts.

She transformed and began to circle the silver mech. He frowned at her, his blue optics flashing in annoyance. That's all she was: an annoyance. Well, she would have to change that.

With a snarl, she leapt forward and dug her fangs into his side, making him grunt and grab her back strut, trying to yank her away. To his surprise, she transformed and grabbed her dagger, spinning it around before jamming it into his armor where her fangs had been. She yanked it out right before he managed to grab her and throw her across the ring.

Mia groaned and slowly sat up. Her sensor net felt like it was on fire from all the different jabs of pain registering in her processor, making her feel sluggish and weak. Sure, they had lost some battles, who hadn't? But this was an especially bad fight.

Megatronus approached the Lupin cautiously. Never corner a wounded animal, for even if it was injured it could still be incredibly dangerous. He raised his blade as he got closer, holding it in a defensive position, but the femme didn't seem to want to get up.

Sola growled as she blocked another blow from Soundwave's tentacles, before shooting her braid forward and stinging him on the shoulder with a paralysis poison. The mech's servos locked up and he froze in place, optics wide and mouth open in shock. He certainly had _not _been expecting this.

Suddenly Sola remembered Mia! She turned around and caught sight of Megatronus approaching her "sister", and her Felida instincts kicked in: protect family at all costs. Mia was down, and a hostile was approaching her with his weapon equipped. She had to do something!

She transformed and leapt forward, switching the venom in her braid - now her tail - to a deadly concoction before sinking her claws into Megatronus' back. The silver gladiator growled and arched his back, trying to grab the Felida who was sinking her fangs into the armor right behind his neck.

Mia glanced up hazily to see Sola struggling with her attacker, and it suddenly registered that her fellow Predacon was fighting to kill. She glanced up at the hosts' booth, where some of the bots had stood and were beginning to hurry down. Megatronus was no doubt a better fighter than the Predacons, having had more experience and time in the ring, but he was no match for poison.

But where was Soundwave? Mia looked around the ring before finally catching sight of the mech, who was stuck. Sola must have paralyzed him. It would probably wear off in a few kliks, so he should be fine.

Sola whipped her tail around and was about to plunge it into Megatronus' neck cables when three pairs of servos yanked her off and pinned her to the ground, where she was finally forced to transform and struggle against the larger mechs.

"Let me go!"

"Restrain her!"

"Get a medic up here, now!"

She caught sight of a large mech with unblinking red optic walking up, a syringe in his servo. Immediately going limp, she stared at it with wide optics until it entered one of her Energon lines. The last thing she heard before going offline was: "Take her to Kaon Prison."

Scrap.

* * *

"Um, sir?"

Megatronus grunted and turned to Eyrmia, who was standing in front of him somewhat sheepishly, her Lupin audials flattened to her helm. She held her tail in both servos, subconsciously stroking the soft metal to calm her jittery nerves.

"I wanted to apologize for my sister earlier. She gets extremely protect-"

"Yes, I understand…Eyrmia, was it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please, none of that 'sir' stuff. You may call me Megatronus or Megatron."

Mia smiled and nodded.

"You fought well today, Eyrmia. I would enjoy sparring with you sometime again soon."

She nodded again. "Please, call me Mia."

"Very well, Mia. I have something to speak to you about. Please follow me." With that, Megatronus stood and walked away, eventually entering another room. Mia saw Soundwave and another bot, the medic that had tranquilized Sola.

"This, as you already know, is Soundwave. This is my battle medic and a scientist, Shockwave," Megatronus explained. Shockwave nodded, but said nothing. Mia had the feeling he only spoke when it was needed.

"As you may know, there have been several of those who are…unsatisfied with the caste system as it remains currently," Megatronus said. Mia nodded. There had been a lot of talk about that in Slaughter City, and even more so in Kaon.

"Well, I have decided to lead a rebellion. As you know, Soundwave and I are at the top. If we begin an uprising, many are sure to hear. With you and Sola, who are in second place, on our side, we are certain to be noticed."

Mia gasped. A rebellion? Could they really do that?

"Do I have your agreement?"

She closed her optics and examined the agreement in her processor. It seemed pretty trustworthy, and hadn't she always said she wanted to change the world? This was how she would be able to prove she wasn't just some gladiator! She could be more!

"I'll do it. But under one condition: you allow me to retrieve Sola from prison."

"Understood."

Mia nodded, then stood and left the room, immediately heading for her quarters. She had some calls to make.

To rescue Sola, Mia would need some experienced bots to help her. Thinking back to her cycles at the Academy, she knew just the mechs who would do the job. She would just have to wait a few breems before she could call them.

With all that extra time, she decided to work on her song. She knew exactly what to write, now. It had become crystal clear when she had her chat with Megatronus.

* * *

"So…how much are we talkin' here? Thirty Creds? Fifty?"

"My maximum is forty Credits."

"Oh come _on_, Rye!"

"Don't call me that. How in the _Pit_ did you even get that from 'Eyrmia'?"

"I just switched the first three letters around. Rye! Isn't it cool?"

"Whatever. Just tell me you'll do the job."

"Fine, fine. Hey, 'Warp, are you up for some teleportation?"

"Nah. My energy's too low. We'll have to use those cloaking devices Percy made."

"Awesome!"

Mia rolled her optics as Skywarp frowned and glared at Wheeljack, who was snickering. The two were close friends, but they had their differences. Wheeljack hated teleportation, claiming it made him sick, but Skywarp despised the cloaking technology, as he hated not being able to see where he was going.

The mechs were about twenty-four orns old, and had just gotten out of the Academy about four orns prior. Wheeljack was working in Crystal City alongside Perceptor, while Skywarp lounged around Blaster City as an Enforcer since he didn't really have anything better to do. His caste had been a warrior caste, which wasn't needed at the moment.

_But they might be soon,_ Mia thought regretfully. She reached inside her subspace and drew out her forty Credits, which was actually a lot of Credits, especially where she lived. _My life's savings. It's worth it though._

Wheeljack smiled and took the Credits, immediately handing some to Skywarp, before putting them up in his subspace. He grabbed three devices as well, which Mia could only assume were the cloaking devices.

"Alright, this is how you use it," he said while demonstrating. He held it above his servo, and a few clawed points extended from the device before he latched it onto his servo. After turning a dial he completely disappeared, and Mia could only see him when she activated the infrared scanners on her optics.

Soon he had appeared again and had passed out the other two devices. Mia noticed that he was considerably more serious now, as was Skywarp.

"Let's move."

* * *

"We're going to sneak past the guards, just like that?" Mia asked, optics narrowed in disbelief. With her infrared scanners on, she could see Wheeljack nod.

"Don't worry. In fact, why don't you tap them on the shoulders on your way in? Give 'em a little scare."

Mia rolled her optics at the suggestion, although she might just take the Wrecker up on it.

They crept up to the entrance, where two guards stood on either side of the opening. Luckily, the doors were nearly always open. The Kaon Prison was incredibly secure, no one had ever been known to even _make _it to the entrance before they were shot down. Guards patrolled everywhere inside, but there were small breaks in which there was no guard in certain parts of the jail.

Slipping inside as silently as they could, Mia fell into line behind Skywarp, who lead the way. They slid by guards, moving like ghosts through the hallways. Mia took note that Skywarp seemed to know exactly where he was going. Had he been here before?

They stopped in front of a large door. Skywarp checked both ways before creaking it open. There were cams, but they wouldn't be able to catch the bots. Even if infrared _was _activated, the cams were so low-tech that all they would catch were blobs. Besides, the intruders would be long gone by the time anyone bothered to check the monitors.

As they walked down the hall, Mia noticed a lot of prisoners. She couldn't tell if they were dead or offline, or just still. Honestly, she really didn't want to know. Close to the end of the hall was where Skywarp stopped. Mia peered in between the cell bars made of crackling energy and glimpsed Sola, who was sitting up with her servos cross over her torso and an angered look on her faceplate.

Suddenly Skywarp produced a box of rust sticks from his subspace and shook them out. Mia watched him with interest, taking two sticks when he offered them.

_::Alright, don't eat them. We need to stick them into the bars. Just trust me on this.:: _The Seeker then took his two rust sticks and touched them to the bars, making them stop after they touched the stick. Wheeljack did the same, and eventually Mia did too.

Sola glanced up in surprise when the bars disappeared, before flinching back when Eyrmia appeared and entered the cell.

"Hey, sis. Take this and activate it. It's a cloaking device," she said as she tossed the Felida a small device. Sola latched it onto her servo and activated it as Mia did the same. The Lupin inserted her rust sticks again to allow Sola through, before running through and removing the sticks. She subspaced them for later, just in case she needed a snack.

The group of four quickly made their escape, but the alarms turned on just as they were reaching the exit.

::_Guys, hurry! The opening is going to close up any nanoklik now!:: _Wheeljack transmitted through the comm link desperately before diving for the opening, soon followed by the rest of the group. Skywarp hissed in pain as a huge sheet of metal clashed down, catching his wing when it landed. Wheeljack ran up and yanked him free, promising to fix his wing when they returned.

And it was on that cycle that Sola was freed from the Kaon Prison. She was the first (and probably the last) prisoner to ever escape. Eyrmia brought her to Megatronus, who apologized and told the Felida his plan. She immediately agreed, as a Cybertron without the caste system was too good to pass up.

Later, Megatronus - now Megatron, Eyrmia, and Sola met a young archivist named Orion Pax, who was also interested in reforming Cybertron. They formed a bond and created a plan to demolish the caste system, and make Cybertron equal for all.

What of Ratchet? Well, the young medic (who was twenty-five orns) had moved back to Vos with Backbeat and Thundercracker (Flatline was still at the Academy). During his time at the Academy, however, he had also met Orion Pax. They had become nearly immediate friends, along with another mech named Jazz and a femme known as Ariel.

Backbeat, although her home was in Vos, had started having tours. Over time her music had become very popular, especially with the addition of Rimshot and Riptide to her band, making it a quintet. She traveled Cybertron, spreading her music throughout the planet.

Magnus and Kup had moved back to Blaster City and continued their mining, although Kup was treated a little better because of his "heroic act" during the Quintesson War. Of course, they were both well on their way to rising in the ranks of the Wreckers, and would soon be leaving Blaster City behind.

And Eyrmia, well…she had asked one last favor of Wheeljack.

"_Jackie?"_

"_Yeah, Rye?"_

"_Can you send this to Backbeat please?"_

_Mia dug the Data Pad out of her subspace before reaching over and grabbing Wheeljack's, which was on the table. She pressed the ends together and pushed "transmit" on her own, sending the file to Wheeljack's._

"_Give it to 'Beat, but promise me you won't read it, okay?"_

_Wheeljack nodded and placed his servo over his Spark. "I promise, Rye."_

"_Thanks."_

"_No problem."_

Meanwhile, Megatronus and Sola showed Orion what the lower castes were like. Cybertron was transforming, no doubt about it, but Energon would be spilled. It was just one of the ingredients in the recipe for change.

The next vorn, Blaster City was bombed by a new rogue group who called themselves the Decepticons.

* * *

**AN: Yay! I finally updated! I feel so proud of myself because I wrote 4400 words! That is a major accomplishment for me. =] So, as you might have noticed, we're getting into the start of the Autobot-Decepticon War. Some of it may be familiar if you've read the books by Alex Irvine, but I'm adding my own twist (obviously because of Sola and Eyrmia).**

**By the way, Eyrmia's completed song, "Change the World", can be found on my story, ****A Little Cultural Spice****.**


	20. We All Fall From Grace

**AN: Hello! Here I am with another chapter. =) So sorry about the delay, Life happened. As you will see, the beginnings of the War are starting to show. This is set about an orn after the last chapter. The whole thing with Sola has been cleared up, though the higher castes are still pretty wary of Megatron and his followers. Megatron has met Orion Pax and they are now collaborating, and Backbeat's musical business is still going strong. She has added two new members: Rimshot and Riptide. This chapter was inspired by the song "Collapse" by Rise Against.**

**Glossary: **Klik = Cybertronian minute

**Warnings: **This may be a little bit hard for some readers, as there are scenes of terrorism and bombing of innocent characters, as well as mass deaths.

**Notes: **I used lines of dialog from and referenced the book Exodus, written by Alex Irvine, for this chapter. Sola belongs to Solarus Prime (formerly known as xXSoundwaveXx).

* * *

**12.06.20**

"Mia, get your aft in here right now!"

Eyrmia quickly sat up and put her Data Pad down, making sure to lock it before jumping off her berth and running down the short hallway to the origin of Sola's voice. She and Megatronus (now known as Megatron) were sitting in front of a holodisplay with the faceplate of a mech they had recently met named Orion Pax. He was a data clerk at the Hall of Records.

"If you ever need something hidden, or need something to disappear, Soundwave is the bot you should talk to," Megatron was saying.

"I'll keep that in mind," Orion answered. He had set up a secure Grid link to speak over, and Soundwave had added extra firewalls just in case.

Mia flicked her Lupin audials irritably as she heard a faint boom in the distance. What in the Pit could that be? It must have come from Slaughter City or Blaster City, because it didn't sound too close, but not too far either.

The conversation paused as Megatron looked around curiously, before glancing pointedly at Mia.

"What was that?" he asked. Mia shrugged, but enhanced her auditory sensors and listened closer. She started to hear more blasts, but they weren't as strong as the first.

"It sounds like a bomb or grenade. I think it's in Blaster City."

Suddenly Sola gasped and brought up a recording on one half of the display. Mia instantly recognized it as Blaster City, as she had predicted. Orion seemed to be seeing the recording on his own screen as well.

A column of smoke rose into the air from the depths of the city, and there were limp, cold frames scattered everywhere. Megatron frowned at the feed, and Sola's optics got noticeably wider as she placed a servo to her lip plating uncertainly.

The feed continued, and more bots were shown being blown apart and destroyed. Finally, the feed cut, and a message displayed on the screen: _"You're next, aristocrats."_

As the saying went, "Sparks are cheap in Blaster City." No one would bother to count the dead, but Council's munition stores had just become dangerously low.

"By the AllSpark!" Orion swore, optics wide and flashing with terror. "What is this?"

Mia whimpered, then clapped her servos over her mouth and bit her lip plating. Sola watched the screen with uncertainty, dreading another clip, but nothing appeared.

After a few moments of thought, Megatron turned back to the clerk and gritted his denta. "Orion Pax, it is time for me to speak out. Cybertron must know that this is _not_ how our movement will operate, and they need to know it now. You are in Iacon, correct?"

Orion nodded.

"I need an open channel, one that cannot be interrupted. I need it to feed to all of the caste aggregators and directly to the Council's group input. Can you do this?"

Orion was already working, and soon had the link open. "It is done."

With a tad of nervousness, Mia shifted out of the cam's view, dragging Sola with her. This was Megatron's show, and she didn't want to be pointed out by the public as a terrorist. She hoped her fellow gladiator knew what he was subjecting himself to.

Megatron steeled his nerves, then looked into the cam and began his speech. The two-way video feed allowed him to see the crowds of bots that had gathered at the holodisplays, and he addressed them proudly.

"I had nothing to do with those attacks, but I do not deny the possibility that the Cybertronians who carried them out were partly inspired by my belief that every Cybertronian has the right to self-determination."

With a sweep of his servo he took in the assembled bots; an assortment of castes and guilds.

"I pity the loss of life, but how many of those who died took pleasure from watching me fight for my life in the gladiatorial pits below Kaon? How many other Cybertronians died for their pleasure? Now those Cybertronians, whose lives were your pleasure, are telling you that they reclaim their lives! No Cybertronian shall tell any other Cybertronian what can and cannot be done!

"I am Megatron. I lead all those who choose to follow me, and I repudiate all those who perform despicable acts in my name. I do not fight with bombs, but with logic. I do not believe in killing, but in the arena of ideas. Let the perpetrators of these attacks feel the full weight of Cybertronian justice. If I find them first, my justice will be swifter and more final," he growled while stepping closer to the cam, optics filling the entire screen menacingly.

* * *

Magnus growled and clenched his servo into a fist in frustration. He didn't believe a word Megatron said - not one bit of it.

Backbeat sat beside him, solemnly looking at her datapad, deep in thought. After Wheeljack had delivered Mia's message, she had spent nearly a whole orn trying to decide whether to use the lyrics or not. With Riptide, Rimshot, Soundtrack, and Beatbox's convincing arguments, though, she had finally agreed. Now, she was just waiting for the other members of the band to arrive.

She glanced over at Magnus, whose optics were shut tightly as he thought about the recent uprisings. She gently laid a servo on his shoulder and he glanced up at her.

"What if it really isn't his fault? There's no reason to be angry at him. He obviously wasn't there, and he looked just as surprised as the rest of us felt."

Magnus sighed and tilted his helm back wearily. He hated it when she was right.

Finally, Backbeat heard the sound of speakers playing in the distance, and she knew that the rest of her team had arrived. Soundtrack and Beatbox were the first to pull in. They both transformed and regretfully turned down their speakers until the music was a low hum.

Riptide and Rimshot were the last ones to arrive. Rimshot flew in and transformed, followed by Riptide, who was on wheels.

"You guys ready?" Backbeat asked. The others nodded excitedly, and the femme smirked. "Whatever you say. Alright, you know the drill. Soundtrack, Beatbox, and I will do the first song, after that it's Riptide and Rimshot, and then all of us together. Remember?"

The mechs all nodded. Backbeat smiled, then drew out and unfolded everyone's Beat Blasters. Riptide grinned like a sparkling when he took his, then gave Rimshot a high-five.

"But…I want to do something special. I-" she paused, glancing at her team nervously, then sighed. "I want to do one of our older songs as a tribute. You know, 'Energon Runs Blue?' It's the one we decided not to perform."

"For what?" Riptide asked slowly.

"Blaster City."

The others shifted and muttered among themselves, still unsure, but finally Soundtrack spoke up.

"I agree. Blaster City may not be the best place, but many Sparks were extinguished. It would be wrong not to do something for them. Besides, it's Magnus's home town," he said with a wink at Backbeat, who growled in embarrassment. It was no secret she had a crush on the Wrecker.

After a short staring contest with Soundtrack, she turned to Magnus curiously. "You're coming, right?"

He nodded. "As soon as Kup arrives I'll go in."

"Don't be late."

"I can't promise."

Backbeat sighed, then jogged into the building to get ready for the concert.

* * *

"Hello, Altihex!" Backbeat greeted, her voice projecting over the crowd of eager bots. "I hate to bring gloomy topics to a concert, but I felt it was necessary to acknowledge all those who were extinguished today in Blaster City. All I ask is that we have a short moment of silence, please," she said before bowing her helm and switching the mic off. The audience did the same, the muttering and whispering dying down.

After a few kliks, Backbeat switched the mic on again and smiled at the audience. "As a tribute to Blaster City, we have added a new short song to our performance list. This was a song we were planning to do a few quartexes ago, but eventually decided against. I present to you, 'Energon Runs Blue!'"

With that she reached down and grabbed her Beat Blaster, striking a chord onto its screen. Soundtrack and Rimshot began their instrumental, and Riptide and Beatbox switched their mics on.

"_Do you feel it?  
Can you sense it?  
The hopelessness  
And the chaos?_

_No matter where you live,  
No matter who you are,  
It doesn't matter how it's done,  
Because either way  
Energon runs blue_

_Brothers,  
Sisters,  
Sires and Carriers,  
All lost to the bloodlust_

_I can feel it deep within my Spark,  
It's little more than a whisper,  
But even a whisper can start a war_

_This is a song for the soldiers,  
The fighters,  
And those who gave their Sparks  
For another."_

Backbeat smiled gently as the crowd cheered.

"We have three more songs for you this cycle, so stay tuned. The next will be performed by the original band, made up of myself, Soundtrack, and Beatbox."

After the next two songs were performed, Backbeat took her team down for a small break and to speak to them.

"As you know, the next song is the one Mia wrote. You all know your parts, so I want you to try your best. The public may not accept Predacons, but she was our bandmate, and she deserves it. Who's with me?"

The rest of the team cheered and bumped their fists with hers.

"Let's go."

They climbed onto the stage and took their positions. Soundtrack and Rimshot held their Beat Blasters ready, while Beatbox, Riptide, and Backbeat activated their mics.

"This is our last song of the night cycle, and we're going to make it memorable! Ready yourselves for 'Change the World,' written by Eyrmia!"

A chord broke the unnatural silence that followed after Backbeat's small speech, and Riptide's voice filled the empty air. Eventually everyone else joined in.

"_You know what it's like to be beaten down,  
Pushed around, like you're nothing?  
You know what it's like to have no say,  
To have your life already planned out,  
Every step of the way?_

_"Well," I say, "No more!"  
The time for change is upon us,  
So sing with me!_

_All I want is to be unique,  
All I want is to do something great,  
I just wanna be distinct,  
I just wanna change the world!_

_For every enemy that I defeat,  
For every stranger that I meet,  
All I see is desperation,_

_And the spark of revolution!  
"Well," I say, "No more!"  
The time for change is upon us,  
So sing with me!_

_All I want is to be unique,  
All I want is to do something great,  
I just wanna be distinct,  
I just wanna change the world!_

_No matter what they say,  
I will find a way,  
To get back on my pedes,  
"It doesn't matter how you fall down, it's how you get back up!"_

_All I want is to be unique,  
All I want is to do something great,  
I just wanna be distinct,  
I just wanna change the world!_

_So sing with me,  
Spark the fire,  
And embrace the change!_

_All I want is to be unique,  
All I want is to do something great,  
I just wanna be distinct,  
I just wanna change the world!"_

Soundtrack finished the song with a final chord on his Beat Blaster, leaving the audience silent for a few moments, before they burst into cheers and shouts. The band stood and bowed, then straightened and waved to the crowd as the spotlights faded to black. They went and packed up their instruments before filing off the stage and making their way to the lounge area.

"Well, that was interesting," Beatbox said as soon as he had plopped down in a seat. Backbeat grinned wearily and nodded.

"You think Mia would like it?" Rimshot asked tentatively. Riptide shrugged.

"Well, she wrote it. Why wouldn't she like it?"

Rimshot glared at him. "I dunno!"

Backbeat rolled her optics and stepped in between the two quarreling mechs. "I'm sure she'll love it. In fact, she probably watched the concert live on her holodisplay in Kaon, so stop arguing and just zip it!" she said in exasperation. "Now, I'm going to go lock up and get the transport ready, so start loading your things in the back."

* * *

**12.06.21**

"Mia, wake up!"

Eyrmia groaned and opened her optics wearily to see Sola's worried faceplate.

"You have to see this!"

She rolled off of the berth before sluggishly following Sola into the media room, rubbing her optics and stretching.

Megatron waved his servo at them, and they took a seat beside him, looking up at the holodisplay. On the screen it showed Polyhex.

"Is that Darkmount?" Sola whispered. Megatron nodded slowly, his faceplate void of emotion. Mia, on the other hand, watched the feed with growing agitation. Darkmount was a large fortress that protected the city of Polyhex from the beasts of Cybertron. Polyhex was a home to artists, partiers, writers, musicians, etc. The two smelting pools, Upper and Lower, where what surrounded the city. The bomb had gone off within it, causing many of the crazy buildings that belonged to the artistic caste to collapse into the Lower Pool. There had been few casualties, but those who had been terminated were of prominent castes.

Eyrmia kicked over her small desk and plopped onto her berth, audials flattened to her helm and tail curled around her waist.

"Stupid! Stupid, slagging, fragging-"

"What's up with you?" Sola asked in surprise as she entered the room to see - and hear - Mia cursing more than she had ever heard.

"Didn't you hear? More than just Blaster City and Polyhex were bombed! Six Lasers, Uraya, Stanix, and even the Sonic Canyons were blown up as well!" She put her helm in her servos and began to sob. Suddenly Sola remembered that Mia's carrier had moved to Polyhex. After Mia had been arrested, Wildfire had been relocated so the authorities could keep her in their sights. At least, that's what Mia thought it was for. She refused to believe that Wildfire was trying to forget about her.

Sola sat down next to her "sister" and rubbed her back comfortingly. "Hey, I'm sure she's alright, Mia. Your carrier's a strong femme, if she's anything like you say she is."

Mia nodded and leaned back, screwing her optics shut and biting her lip plating, a habit she had picked up recently. Sola watched her for a moment more before standing and quietly leaving the room, knowing her friend needed some time to herself.

With a sigh, the Lupin switched on her datapad and opened the feed of Backbeat's concert the night cycle before. After a few tweaks, she had separated the audio into four different music tracks and removed the video feed. She had done this with all of Backbeat's concerts, as she wanted to keep even a little bit of her previous life with her. After loading the four newest songs onto her internal hard drive, she switched off the datapad and began to play one of the new songs, lounging back into a relaxed position.

As soon as it began to play, she bolted upright and gasped. It was _her _song - the one she had sent to Backbeat! Mia smiled and slowly leaned back down. They hadn't forgotten her after all.

* * *

**AN: I hope it was alright. =) For those of you who follow ****Wild Nature****, I am writing the fourth chapter now. ;) I'd also like to say thank you to those who have reviewed (Answerthecall, Daydreamerxo15, and Solarus Prime).**


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